#battle of the five armies? never heard of it

[ummyesisthisjasongrace]

Was gonna point out that as much as I love the Thorin and Bilbo raising Frodo together trope, it doesn't make any sense because canonically Bilbo only adopted Frodo when he was already in his tweens, but then I remembered that canonically Thorin is dead and Bagginshield do not live the domestic cottagecore husband life in the Shire at all

[hamstertross]

little fíli doodle I did in geography

[fdelopera]

America owes its independence to Haym Salomon, a Sephardic Jewish Patriot

A Jewish American Hero

by Yosef Kaufmann

October 17, 1781. An eerie silence takes hold over the battlefield outside Yorktown, Virginia. After weeks of non-stop artillery shells and rifle fire, the rhythmic pounding of a drum is all that is heard. Through the wispy smoke that floats above the battlefield, a British officer can be seen waving a white flag. General Cornwallis has surrendered Yorktown, ending the last major battle of the American Revolution. The surrender of Yorktown and the nearly 8,000 British troops convinced the British Parliament to start negotiating an end to the war. On September 3, 1783, the treaty of Paris was signed. The war was over.

If not for Haym Salomon, however, the decisive victory at Yorktown never would have happened.

Haym Salomon was born in Leszno, Poland, in 1740. In 1770, he was forced to leave Poland for London as a result of the Partition of Poland. Five years later, he left London for New York City, where he quickly established himself as a broker for international merchants.

Sympathetic to the Patriot cause, Haym joined the New York branch of the Sons of Liberty, a secret society that did what it could to undermine British interests in the colonies. In 1776, he was arrested by the British and charged with being a spy. He was pardoned on condition that he spend 18 months on a British ship serving as a translator for the Hessian mercenaries, as he was fluent in Polish, French, German, Russian, Spanish and Italian. During those 18 months, Haym used his position to help countless American prisoners escape. He also convinced many Hessian soldiers to abandon the British and join the American forces.

In 1778, he was arrested again and sentenced to death for his involvement in a plot to burn the British Royal fleet in the New York Harbour. He was sent to Provost to await execution, but he managed to bribe a guard and escape under the cover of darkness.

He fled New York, which was under the control of the British army, and moved to Philadelphia, the capital of the Revolution.

He borrowed money and started a business as a dealer of bills of exchange. His office was located near a coffee house frequented by the command of the American forces. He also became the agent to the French consul and the paymaster for the French forces in North America. Here he became friendly with Robert Morris, the newly appointed Superintendent of Finance for the 13 colonies. Records show that between 1781 and 1784, through both fundraising and personal loans, he was responsible for financing George Washington over $650,000, today worth approximately over $13 million.

By 1781, the American congress was practically broke. The huge cost of financing the war effort had taken its toll. In September of that year, George Washington decided to march on Yorktown to engage General Cornwallis. A huge French fleet was on its way from the West Indies under the command of Comte De Grasse. The fleet would only be able to stay until late October, so Washington was facing immense pressure to lead an attack on Yorktown before then.

After marching through Pennsylvania, with little in the way of food and supplies, Washington’s troops were on the verge of mutiny. They demanded a full month's pay in coins, not congressional paper money which was virtually worthless, or they would not continue their march. Washington wrote to Robert Morris saying he would need $20,000 to finance the campaign. Morris responded that there was simply no money or even credit left. Washington simply wrote, “Send for Haym Salomon.” Within days, Haym Salomon had raised the $20,000 needed for what proved to be the decisive victory of the Revolution.

Haym’s chessed continued after the war. Whenever he met someone who he felt had sacrificed during the war and needed financial assistance, he didn’t hesitate to do whatever he could to help.

He was also heavily involved in the Jewish community. He was a member of Congregation Mikveh Yisroel in Philadelphia, the fourth oldest synagogue in America, and he was responsible for the majority of the funds used to build the shul’s main building.

He also served as the treasurer to the Society for the Relief of Destitute Strangers, the first Jewish charitable organization in Philadelphia.

On January 8, 1785, Haym died suddenly at the age of 44. Due to the fact the government owed him hundreds of thousands of dollars, his family was left penniless.

His obituary in the Independent Gazetteer read:

Thursday, last, expired, after a lingering illness, Mr. Haym Salomon, an eminent broker of this city, was a native of Poland, and of the Hebrew nation. He was remarkable for his skill and integrity in his profession, and for his generous and humane deportment. His remains were yesterday deposited in the burial ground of the synagogue of this city.

Although there is little proof, many believe that when designing the American Great Seal, George Washington asked Salomon what he wanted as compensation for his generosity during the war. Salomon responded “I want nothing for myself, rather something for my people.” It is for this reason that the 13 stars are arranged in the shape of the Star of David.

[humansofnewyork]

(3/54) “It’s been forty-three years since I’ve seen my home. All I have left is a jar of soil. It’s good soil. Nahavand is a city of gardens. A guidebook once called it ‘a piece of heaven, fallen to earth.’ The peaks are so high that they’re capped with snow. A spring gushes from the mountain, and flows into a river. It spreads through the valley like veins. We lived in the deepest part of the valley, the most fertile part. Our father owned thousands of acres of farmland. When we were children he gave us each a small plot of land to plant a garden. None of the other children had the discipline. They’d rather play games. But I planted my seeds in careful rows. I hauled water from a nearby well. I pulled every weed the moment it appeared. As the poets say: ‘If you cannot tend a garden, you cannot tend a country.’ My garden was the best; it was plain for all to see. The discipline came from my mother. She was very devout. She prayed five times a day. Never spoke a bad word, never told a lie. My father was a Muslim too, but he drank liquor and played cards. He’d wash his mouth with water before he prayed. The Koran was in his library. But so were the books of The Persian Mystics: the poets who spent one thousand years softening Islam, painting it with colors, making it Iranian. Back then it was a big deal to own even a single book, but my father had a deal with a local bookseller. Whenever a new book arrived in our province, it came straight to our house. I’ll never forget the morning I heard the knock on the door. It was the bookseller, and in his hands was a brand-new copy of Shahnameh. The Book of Kings. It’s one of the longest poems ever written: 50,000 verses. The entire story of our people. And it’s all the work of a single man: Abolqasem Ferdowsi. Shahnameh is a book of battles. It’s a book of kings and queens and dragons and demons. It’s a book of champions called to save Iran from the armies of darkness. Many of the stories I knew by heart. Everyone in Iran knew a few. But I’d never seen them all in one place before, and in a beautiful, leather-bound edition. The book never made it to my father’s library. I brought it straight to my room.” 

چهل‌وسه سال از هنگامی که از میهنم دور افتاده‌ام می‌گذرد. آنچه برای من باقی‌ مانده، شیشه‌ای‌ست پر از خاک. خاک خوبی‌ست. خاک نهاوند، خاک ایران. نهاوند شهر باغ‌هاست. زمانی کتاب ایران‌گردی را خواندم که آن را "تکه‌ای از بهشت بر زمین افتاده" نامیده بود. بر قله‌های بلندش برف همیشگی پیداست. چشمه‌ای که از دل کوه می‌جوشد، رودی می‌شود. چون رگ‌های تن در سراسر دره ‌پخش می‌شود. ما در ژرف‌ترین بخش دره زندگی می‌کردیم. حاصل‌خیزترین بخش آن. پدرم از زمین‌داران بود. او در کودکی من، به هر یک از فرزندانش پاره زمینی در باغ خانه داد تا باغچه‌ای درست کنیم. بچه‌های دیگر چندان علاقه‌ای به این کار نداشتند. آنها بازی را بیشتر دوست داشتند. ولی من دانه‌هایم را به هنگام با دقت می‌کاشتم. آب را از حوض یا چاه نزدیک می‌آوردم. گیاهان هرزه را بی‌درنگ وجین می‌کردم. همانگونه که می‌گویند: «اگر نتوانید از باغچه‌تان نگهداری کنید، از میهن‌تان نیز نمی‌توانید.» باغچه‌ی من بهترین بود؛ زیبایی‌اش بر همگان آشکار. این نظم را از مادرم آموخته بودم. مادرم بسیار پرهیزکار بود. روزی چند بار نماز می‌خواند، هرگز واژه‌ی بدی بر زبان نمی‌راند، هیچگاه دروغ نمی‌گفت. پدرم نیز مسلمان بود، ولی در جوانی گاهی نوشابه‌ی الکلی هم می‌نوشید و ورق‌بازی هم می‌کرد. پیش از نماز دهانش را آب می‌کشید. در کتابخانه‌اش قرآن و کتاب‌هایی از عارفان ایرانی داشت. شاعرانی که در درازای هزار سال اسلام را نرم و ملایم کرده بودند، به آن رنگ و بو بخشیده بودند، ایرانی کرده بودند. در آن زمان که داشتن کتاب کار آسان و عادی نبود، پدرم با کتاب‌فروش محلی قراردادی داشت. او هر بار کتاب جدیدی به دستش می‌رسید، باید یکراست نسخه‌ای به خانه‌ی ما بفرستد. هیچ‌گاه آن بامدادی را که صدای کوبیدن در را شنیدم، فراموش نخواهم کرد. کتاب‌فروش آمده بود و در دستانش کتاب شاهنامه‌ی جدیدی بود. نامه‌ی شاهان. یکی از بلندترین شعرهایی که تا کنون سروده شده است، بیش از پنجاه‌ هزار بیت شعر. همه‌ی داستان‌های مردمان‌مان. همه‌ی ایران در شعری یگانه. و همه‌شان سروده‌ی یک شاعر: ابوالقاسم فردوسی. شاهنامه کتاب نبردهاست. کتاب شاهان و شهبانوان، اژدهایان و اهریمن‌هاست. کتاب پهلوانانی‌ست که ایران را در برابر نیروهای اهریمنی پاس می‌دارند. بیشتر داستان‌ها را از بر بودم. هر ایرانی داستانی از شاهنامه می‌‌دانست. ولی من هیچگاه همه‌ی داستان‌های شاهنامه را یکجا در جلدی چرمی و زیبا ندیده بودم. آن کتاب هرگز به کتابخانه‌ی پدرم راه نیافت. آن را یکراست به اتاقم بردم

[danikamariewrites]

Take Them All Down (part 1)

Rhysand x reader

A/n: with all things I write I don’t really know what part of my brain this came from. I’ve had this story idea for a while I just never had characters to use it with. Maybe one day I’ll use it with my own but until then enjoy Rhys with a depression beard. Idk why but I mated Az and Feyre plz don’t be mad.

Warnings: death, angst, poison, blood, reader buried alive

You came to with a sharp inhale. The first thing you see is Beron Vanserra smirking down at you. You try to sit up but quickly find the male is kneeling on your chest. As you struggle against him he clicks his tongue at you. “Now, now y/n. None of that.”

You gave up. Tired from the brutal hours you spent fighting Hybern’s army. Before you could scream Beron gripped your jaw so tight he forced your mouth open. He dumped a small vial of clear liquid down your throat, quickly forcing your jaw shut so you’d swallow.

Once he let go up you started coughing, gasping for air. “What the fuck did you do to me?” You croaked out. Drowsiness started to take over your body. Your limbs feeling weak and tired. You fight the urge to close your eyes, attempting to flip your body so you could crawl to Rhys.

As your eyes closed you saw Beron’s mouth move but you couldn’t hear his threatening words. You just drifted off into an endless darkness.

——

It felt like you heard years pass as you stayed in the darkness. You heard Rhys cry out in anguish. A priestess and a somber organ and then nothing.

——

It’s been one month. One month without you and Rhys had become a ghost. He rarely leaves the Town House. Amren and Mor have been running the court. Cassian, Azriel, and Feyre are out of ways to help him.

The High Lord has barley said a word since you died. He just spends his days draped in an armchair, a glass of never ending whiskey clutched in his hand. Rhys had stopped shaving. A dark scruffy beard now covering his sharp jawline. And the bags under his eyes deepened as the days pass.

Rhys knows his family means well but it didn’t make him feel any better as he overheard their constant muttering. “What do we do?” “Has he ever been this bad before?” “He wasn’t like this after under the mountain.” “I’m worried he’s going to do something…drastic.”

If Rhys had the energy to move he would’ve left the Town House weeks ago. But this was your favorite place. He couldn’t just abandon it to collect dust. Rhys scratched at his beard and cleared his throat. The conversation in the hall paused for a moment as the family listened for a moment and went back to their whispers.

—

The five of them held their breath for a beat, then let go as the sound of ice clinking against glass breaks the silence. Cassian scrubs at his face with both hands. Amren shakes her head. Azriel speaks up first, “I’m out of answers.” Mor hugs herself and Feyre holds Azriel’s hand.

“What about other friends?” Mor asks. Azriel shakes his head. “I have intel that Helion and Kallias have been dealing with their own issues.” He lowers his voice more, “Day and Winter are in trouble. They may collapse in months, weeks even.” Amren’s eyes widen in shock. “Why?” She spits out. Azriel shrugs. It’s killing him to not have the answer.

Amren let’s out a huff as she voices what everyone fears. “We might be headed for the same fate if something doesn’t change.” They all look to the sitting room, sending up a prayer to the Mother.

——

It was hard opening your eyes. You still felt groggy from the battle. And then you remember Beron kneeling on you. The clear liquid burning down your throat. You jolted up but hit your head on something hard, forcing you down again.

Your eyes fly open. Your breathing fast and hard. It’s pitch black. You feel around the dark enclosed space. It’s getting harder to breathe.

Cushioned siding and smooth wood meet your fingertips. Your mind is racing. Then it clicks. Beron put you in a suspended state. The bastard fooled everyone into thinking you were dead.

Oh Mother, Rhys! Your mate was tricked into burying you.

You felt anger surge through you. Resting your palms against the smooth cold wood. Taking one more deep breath you pull back your fist, throwing all the strength you have into splintering the wood. It didn’t budge.

You switched fists. Willing the wood to break under your knuckles. You kept alternating fists. Punching again, and again, and again, and again.

A scream ripped from your lips and heavy tears started flowing from your eyes in waves. You didn’t yield. Continuing your assault on the coffin holding you back from the world.

Dirt finally fell through a crack onto your stomach. You jerked and felt something metal against your leg. They buried you with your sword. Strapping it to the belt of your dress you went back to breaking open the coffin. Your knuckles were gushing blood, stinging from the loose wood and dirt.

Another wave of strength and anger came over you and started kicking at the lid. The lid splintered in half allowing dirt to spill in. You sputtered as it fell into your mouth and eyes. Willing your arms to move you push the dirt away from you.

You begin to dig upwards. Crawling all six feet to the surface of the earth.

That was the tough part. Punching through the tightly packed ground was harder than the coffin. As your fist broke the ground you spread your fingers, feeling the cool night air.

Punching over and over again you got both arms out. You push the ground apart with what little strength you have left, pulling yourself from the grave. Gasping down air lighting cracked above. You rest for a moment, curling up on the ground.

Rolling on to your back a wail comes up from your chest. More tears run down your face, leaving tracks on the dirt coating your face.

A blood curdling scream of anger comes next.

Rain begins to pelt your face. You breathe a sigh of relief. You feel alive again.

You want to see Rhys but the need for revenge is overpowering. The anger rattles your bones as you begin to shake.

Flipping over you push yourself up on tired and bloody hands. Fingers seeping in to muddy ground. You focus on breathing and your ability to winnow.

As your power flows through you, you focus on getting as close to the Forest House as possible. Wards be damned. Let him know you’re in his court. In his home. Death is coming for Beron Vanserra and you will be the last person he ever sees.

—

Rapid and hard knocks shake the door of the Town House. Cassian rips it open so hard it almost comes off its hinges. A city guard is standing in the rain looking worried and disheveled. Tilting his head at the guard Cassian noticed the male seemed pale.

“What is it?” “I am sorry to disturb at this hour but there is something the High Lord must know.” Cassian’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. “The High Lady’s grave it’s…been disturbed.” Cassian almost fell to his knees. “How?”

The guard looked like he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “Speak!” The General commanded. “It’s been dug up, sir.”

Cassian left the door open as he rushed to the sitting room. The Inner circle looked to him with curious faces. “Rhys,” he strode over to kneel before his brother. “Y/n’s grave, it’s…”

Rhys showed his first sign of emotion in weeks. It was unreadable. He shot up from his seat and pushed past the group to the front door. Rhys broke out into a sprint in the pouring rain. They followed and didn’t stop until your grave came into sight.

He halted inches away from the ripped up ground. Dropping to his knees Rhys’s lip trembled as tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t scent another person. Just you. Only one thing was on his mind as he broke out into hysteric laughter.

There had been something off about your death- Rhys just couldn’t verbalize it until now. The mating bond wasn’t gone it was just…dull. Like it was waiting to wake up again. Azriel and Cassian wrapped Rhys in their arms tightly.

“She’s alive,” he forced out through laughter and tears. The group looked at each other concerned. Azriel’s shadows were swirling around like crazy. Covering your tombstone, the hole in the ground, and the ripped up grass around them.

They finally came back to rest by his shoulders. One circling his rounded ear. As the shadow whispered Azriel’s eyes widened at their report.

He looked to Cassian, bewildered. It was true. You are alive. And the shadows haven’t a clue where you went. They needed a plan. And there are too many questions.

—

You ended up at the bottom of the main stairs of the Forest House. The guards didn’t notice you until it was too late. You beheaded them, kicking the doors in.

Stomping down the hall you sliced through each guard you came across. Leaving a trail of blood to the throne room. One of Beron’s sons, you don’t know which one, didn’t care, tried to fight. You brought him down to his knees keeping a death grip around his throat with your arm.

Entering the throne room you climbed up the dais throwing the male down hard, your sword poised at his throat. Guards and other court members rushed in.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop your scowl or lower your sword. You wouldn’t back down from Beron. “Bring me Beron Vanserra or he loses another son!” For emphasis you pushed your blade against the trembling males throat.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Goddess of the Luo River ~ Qin Shi Huang x Reader

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. He is gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn; Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets.

What lies behind the mask of the 'King Where It All Began' ...?

He... Was the most cursed prince in all of History.

It is held that in the year 260 BC, at the end of the battle of Chang Ping, Bai Qi, General of the Qin Army, had the captured soldiers of the Zhao army buried alive en masse. According to the records of the Grand Historian Shi Ji, the number of men killed was over four hundred and fifty thousand.

The following year, a member of the Qin royal family being kept as a hostage in Zhao, Zichu had an affair with a Zhao dancer. Their child, born in enemy territory, was the boy who would one day become Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of the Unified China. Ying Zheng.

However, in 257, Zichu returned to Qin alone, and his mother, Lady Zhao, abandoned him. At just two years old, he was cast away by his father, his mother... And his country. King Zhaoxiang of Qin invaded Zhao and laid siege to its capital, Handan.

Five years later, when the little prince was merely seven years of age, living on the outskirts of Handan, he would return to his small and secluded home, having to see the insults and hostile drawings on the walls made by the citizens, and endure the ostracising and death threats from the guards.

Ever after Qin's siege of Handan, Zhao continued to hold Ying Zheng hostage. They placed him under harsh supervision, keeping him alive but never allowing him to live, all while he bore the scorn of the Zhao people.

One day, however, he will experience the foreign feeling of joy for the first time in his life; As he went to buy some groceries, receiving the hatred of the people, a young lady around his age, wearing the simple clothes of a commoner, jumped in defense of him.

"This boy did nothing wrong! Why do you continue beating down on a child who had nothing to do with the massacre? You hate on him, though you should be hating on the evil general Bai Qi, and the King of Qi who committed such atrocities! The sins of the father shouldn't be passed down on an innocent child!" the prince's heart throbbed in shock and flatter, watching someone actually protecting him, let alone say such words about him! "Shut your mouth, wench, what do you know about war and politics?!" one of the men surrounding them spat at her, grabbing her by the neck of the dress. "This child is the reason your father and brother were buried alive by the enemy, along with hundreds of thousands of other good men who protected our country!" "It wasn't this child who gave the order. It wasn't this child who killed my family, nor anyone else's. Your hearts are filled with malice and scorn from loss and poverty, but that doesn't give anyone the right to use an innocent child as a scapegoat for the evil-doings of the higher ups. It's the fault of them and the constant civil wars happening throughout the country! This country will never heal unless we show compassion and understanding!" such beautiful words, such a progressive and revolutionary thinking from someone as young as her! The prince was highly impressed, but he couldn't find any strength in his body to move, he was rooted to the spot, watching the adults throw the girl to the ground, kicking her mercilessly. "If your father heard you, he'd have disciplined your rudeness until it all bled out! How dare you, a stupid, uneducated woman, speak back to a man? Your father would have beaten you until you learnt to bite down on that vile tongue of yours." she hadn't let out a single yelp, nor did she curse or complain until the punishing was over and the crowd dispersed.

"What do they know of my father, anyway? He was a kind man, he'd never hit me for speaking my mind." the girl scoffed, getting up on her feet and patting her clothes. "Are you alright, My Prince?"

But the prince felt like crying; He wanted desperately to throw his arms around the girl, thank her for standing up for him, for defending and protecting him, but at the same time, she was bleeding and bruised after her feat, and it was all because of him. "F-Forgive me... Forgive me... Because of me, you... You got hurt... I'm so sorry..." he wanted to cry... He wanted to cry so badly... "Aiya, don't say that. It wasn't you who hurt me, you are innocent in all this mess. It is the evilness that hurt me, along with these wars and crimes that keep happening." she sighed softly. "If only there was one man who could unite the country and stop the civil wars, the people would be living in peace and harmony, and the seed of hatred would rot." she shook her head dismissively, before smiling at the boy. "My Prince, I can see you are desperately trying to bite down your tears - You needn't, not in front of me. If you wish me to, I can be your shoulder to cry on, or a reason to smile. You are a kind child, you don't deserve everything that's happening to you." the girl held his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "Let me show you a special place."

Thus, the girl dragged the little Prince to some part of the outskirts where he's never been before; An abandoned garden that though unattended to, still retained its beauty and grace, with green plants and colourful flowers as he's never seen before. Truly, this must be the prettiest part of all Zhao, the boy thought.

From a hidden spot inside a thick bush, Y/N dragged a chest filled with the most expensive silk clothes and beautiful accessories - And even a pipa lute and make-up! "I've always loved dancing, you see. This place is my special place. Mum showed it to me, and grandma showed it to mum. Since when this chest has been here, or when did the garden get abandoned, I do not know, but I am happy regardless." she giggled softly, discarding the ratty outer layer of her clothes and putting on a lovely pink dress. "My dream has been, since I've seen mum dance for the first time, to become a dancer at the high court. I love the pretty dresses and all the accessories, and the music also. Alas..." she smiled sadly, trailing her fingertips softly across the melodious strings of the pipa. "Men with wealth and status care little that a dancer is not a courtesan, and there is no one to protect us from their lecherous hands."

Ying Zheng could only sit down and watch the girl before him transform into the most graceful fairy, and with elegant moves, her body flowed like the river through a flower meadow, and the orchid fragrance in the Spring wind. He was completely mesmerised by the beauty in front of him. "My grandma danced for grandpa only, and my mum for my dad. I, too, hope to one day marry the love of my life, and bewitch him with my dancing." her smile was so carefree and filled with glee that the prince found himself completely enchanted. "But... I like to dream big. I may be just a simple, common girl, with no family, no money and no status... In spite of this... I do hope that somehow, I would be able to dance in front of people and make them happy, and smile, with my dancing." she glided around the flowers like a peony nymph, her pink skirts flying around her like the rich petals of said flower. "Until then, I suppose I should just continue perfecting my choreographies." "Y-You dance beautifully." the prince managed to stutter out, still under the afterglow of the dance, and the stunning pose she ended in. "If it matters, you made me feel very happy." "Hao!" she giggled sweetly. "You have a gorgeous smile. I hope to see you smiling so genuinely all the time when we're together."

The prince continued to blush deeply, though his heart was throbbing with joy as never before. A single day, however, only has so many hours, and with the afternoon gone, the Sun was setting and the starry skies were reflected in his gorgeous eyes.

"W-Would it be too rude and daring t-to ask you to please be my friend?" the boy bowed down humbly at her, only to hear a sweet giggle. "Y/N. Call me Y/N. And I will call you by your given name - Zheng." she quickly took the jade pendant from her sash and tied it to his own. "There, a token of my care and friendship for you. Now that we call each other by our given name, we are soul bound." "B-But... I-I don't have anything to give you..." the boy's lips trembled with emotion. "Hmm... Let me think..." her sweet smile turned mischievous, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Remember what I said about the wars? That only the King of all Kings can unite our country and bring peace?" he nodded silently. "When you become Emperor, don't forget about me. That's the only thing I wish from you. To be friends forever, no matter what the course of time may bring for us. How's that sound?" The little prince looked up at her, his starry eyes sparkling with joy and love, and a soft blush painting his porcelain cheeks. He grinned widely, like a happy child, and he repeated the single word that she adopted from her - A word that will become his most favourite word. "Hao!"

Many days passed, and the friendship between Zheng and Y/N only grew stronger, and so did their crush on one another. Y/N became even more protective over the boy, thus receiving even more scorn and disciplining - The adults could afford disciplining an orphan girl with no status, but they couldn't beat the Prince. Even his deep sorrow dissipated when he saw her dance.

That is, until Y/N walked him home one afternoon, and there, waiting for him, was a woman, blowing into a spinning windwheel. "Are you Ying Zheng?" the stern-looking woman asked. "Who asks?" Y/N frowned, stepping protectively in front of him, glaring at her viciously - But the boy was mellow and didn't want to upset anyone, nor incur another's wrath, and he simply bowed and affirmed that it was him, the prince. "I didn't think you'd be so young. Tsk." she frowned, rolling her eyes. "Who are you and what do you want with the Prince?" Y/N's loud and firm voice made the woman's eyebrow rise. "I'm Chun-Yan, his new live-in caretaker and bodyguard. Which means..." she jumped off the stone lamp and though she could tower over the prince, as the girl was right there, shielding him, she still felt intimidating. "I can roll you, fold you, or do whatever the hell I want with you." "Yes, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you." the prince bowed deeply, only for the girl to hiss at the woman and close her fan, bonking her in the head. "Who do you think you are, threatening a child like this? I'll kill you if you even look at him the wrong way." Chun-Yan was rather amused by the braveness of this peasant girl, and she scoffed, straightening up and walking towards the humble home of the prince. "Well, whatever. First things first, show me around this place."

As she opened the doors, she noticed the dilapidated state of complete disrepair that the small home of the hostage prince was; A complete dump filled with broken windows and walls, and furniture, mold growing everywhere and everything was shit.

"God, what a dump this is! Though, I guess it suits a reject from the Qin royal family." the nasty comment made Y/N yell at her again. "Fuck off, will you?!" the woman stared in shock - A little girl cursed like a sailor man! "You are just as evil as all the others around! We don't need you here! Go away! You're only going to hurt him, you evil, nasty woman!" "D-Don't worry, Y/N! It's really okay!" Yin Zheng forced a wide smile on his face. "Would you like something to drink? If water is alright, I'll go fetch some." he bowed again. "... Are you really seven?" she muttered in disbelief before slumping down on the table. "I DON'T LIKE YOU!" she yelled, pointing a finger at him. "A kid your age oughta be crying or throwing a fit at the drop of a hat, but you've just been grinning ear to ear this whole time. It's givin' me the creeps." Y/N didn't even have the time to yell at the woman again, for the prince started dancing around like a monkey. "Are you makin' fun of me?!" "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE ALREADY?!" Y/N's anger was through the roof. "Who do you think you are, treating him like this?! I bet you lost someone to the burying, didn't you? Well, that's you and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS CITY! INCLUDING ME!" she glared up at Chun-Yan, who looked flabbergast at the girl. "I lost my dad and brother! My mum killed herself from grief! I've been all alone to survive and fend for myself since I was barely four years old - But I don't go around blaming a child for the evil-doings of those warmongers! Why is it so hard for adults to understand that Ying Zheng did nothing wrong?! That you should be blaming THEM, not a child who was barely a BABY when it happened!" the woman was stunned. "You are a woman! Women are supposed to be gentle and caring towards children! You are a disgrace to all of girl-kind!"

The woman remained silent for a few seconds, staring down at the gleaming eyes of the girl who started crying from the deep rage she felt - And suddenly, Chun-Yan felt guilt and remorse. The girl was right, she wasn't any different than everyone in Handan, or Zhao itself. To think a child would have more wisdom than a rage-blinded adult...

"Let's clean this place already. You can't expect me to sleep in some dingy hut like this." Chun-Yan scoffed, taking the broom and beginning to clean this place properly - Though no amount of work could properly make this run-down home into a beautiful and safe haven.

Regardless, Ying Zheng and Y/N helped in the cleaning up, and though the boy felt incredibly on edge around a stranger, Y/N and Chun-Yan were constantly yelling at each other. The place was... Pretty loud and tense - Yet thus began their unusual pseudo-familial life.

Chun-Yan took the two children for grocery shopping again, only to see the true horrors of the prince's daily life, as one of the merchants threw the food on the ground, urging the prince to eat the sand-filled meat - At the same time, Y/N quickly jumped to shield the boy, as the people around started glaring at him, accusing him of killing their children or relatives. They all wanted to kill him, while he could only force a smile and bow at them humbly.

Anger. Curse. Hate. Curse. Kill. Curse. Evil. Curse. Grudge. Curse. Sad. Curse.

When they returned home, Chun-Yan stopped the lone boy from going to rest, and revealed the many injuries on his body. Apparently, whenever he saw someone getting injured, his own body started getting scars in the same place, and feel the pain of said person. Y/N knew, and that's why she tried her best to protect him, but it wasn't always working. It was all because of the constant hatred from the people of Zhao that he developed such an accursed condition.

It was just a little pain, he'd say. The wounds will heal, eventually... Though his body said another thing, and he almost fainted. Ying Zheng's smile had been instinctively learned by him at the mere age of seven, as a way to allay, even only slightly, the hatred constantly searing his body. "Some day, maybe they'll forgive me... Won't day?" a most pitiful armor.

"Forgive you...? Who do you think you're kidding here?! Huh?! How the hell can you just keep grinning like an idiot?! Why don't you get angry?! Why don't you hate them?!" Chun-Yan started crying - She was now fully understanding Y/N's angry tears and the frustration she felt at the way Zhao was treating an innocent child. "What happened back then... At Chang Ping... HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! IT ISN'T RIGHT THAT YOU'RE GETTING HURT! SO STOP FORCING YOURSELF TO HOLD BACK! IF YOU WANNA CRY, THEN CRY! IF YOU'RE FEELING MAD, THEN LET IT OUT! STOP KILLING YOURSELF FROM THE INSIDE AND LYING TO YOURSELF ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL!" she yelled at him, falling on the ground weakly, watching the still forced smile on his face. "G-Get angry...? Cry...? I-I could never do that... B-Because I'm... I'm the child of a nation that kills people. I-I'm a cursed child... Th-That's why, I..." for the first time in his life, Ying Zheng felt the embrace of a mother. "It doesn't matter how awful your parents are - Their kid doesn't deserve to be punished! You haven't done anything wrong, nothing at all..." tears were drenching her face, all the guilt and regret overwhelming her. "Y/N was right... Y/N cares so much for you, she only wants the best for you." she found herself speaking in a milder voice. "You're a kind person, who understands people's pain. Your wounds are proof of that, not some punishment or curse." the boy's body was trembling violently. "Ying Zheng. You can live however you want to live."

For the first time in his life, Ying Zheng allowed himself to wail out all of his distress, all the pain, the agony and suffering he's been feeling this entire time, and his mother figure encouraged him. "Why me?! I haven't done anything! Nothing at all! I hate them! I hate everyone! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT ALL!!!!!!"

It was the first night he slept peacefully, and when he woke up, the woman offered him a pretty scarf to cover his eyes. If he can't see the pain of others, then maybe he won't be feeling it? It was worth a try. She made it herself, after all. When her child was still alive, this used to be a piece of cake for her to do.

The boy, with the most beautiful smile in the world, tied the scarf over his eyes. "HAO!" he joyfully exclaimed. "Thanks, Chun-Yan! I'll take good care of it!" "Hao? I like that word too!" the woman grinned at him. He truly was adorable.

Since then, Y/N and Chun-Yan became the only persons Ying Zheng could be around and not feel any pain. Every day he spent with them, Ying Zheng was able to smile and have fun from the bottom of his heart. They would clean up the graffiti and even learn martial arts - Sometimes, they'd even prank the people who used to bully him; And his smile became more and more cheerful. Ying Zheng was truly happy.

However... King Zhaoxiang of Qin, and soon after, his son, King Xiaowen, passed away - And so, in 250 BC, the man who abandoned Ying Zheng, Zichu, ascended to the throne, and thus... Ying Zheng unexpectedly became the crown prince, the first in line to the throne, and was permitted to return to Qin.

"Ha! To think that some silly words I said would actually come true. I must be a Seer or something." Y/N grinned at the crying boy. "Crown Prince Ying Zheng. That sounds very good! Hao! I like that!" "Won't you come with me?! Please?! Please?! Don't leave me alone, I need you! We are friends, aren't we?!" the boy was sobbing, holding tightly onto the girl. "Forgive me, I cannot." she sighed, embracing him. "Not only am I a Zhao citizen, but... I am also a peasant. I would never be allowed anywhere near the Crown Prince." she kissed his cheek, patting his hair. "But when you get older and ascend to the throne - If you still remember me, and want to see me again, then you can always send for me. I will wait for you a thousand lifetimes, if needed. Just to see you again. The beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes."

Before he left, Y/N stole a quick peck on his lips, and waved him goodbye; Whilst Chun-Yan was laughing copiously, she had to drag the stunned boy away, his face burning fiercely from a blush. "I'll make you my Empress, Y/N! Wait for me! I'll keep my promise!" they truly were adorable, the woman thought, as the carriage left for Qin.

Thus, however, not only Y/N, but Ying Zheng would remain alone for so long, as Y/N had no one else in Zhao, and with the scorned people of Zhao no longer holding the prince as a hostage, they sent mercenaries to kill him. As a last motherly act of love, Chun-Yan used her martial arts to battle them all, though she would be fatally injured. "YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY KID!" she yelled, killing the last one.

As she lay dying in his arms, she told him the truth - That Y/N was right about her all along. She was a scorned, grieving parent, with her child, similar in age to the prince, having been buried alive. Her beloved Chun-Ou. She could do nothing to save him, for she dug in the dirt with her nails desperately, but couldn't even find him to give him a proper send-off. She wanted too see the prince, to scold him for being a useless, evil brat... She wanted to vent her anger and resentment... But she couldn't.

If a kid like Ying Zheng could become the King - Someone who could understand people's pain... Perhaps someone like him could change this fucked-up world a little, the very same way he changed her. "Become the greatest king of them all." it was the same promise that Y/N also bestowed upon him.

Before she died though, she didn't see Ying Zheng, but Chun-Ou. "I didn't know you were there, Chun-Ou. Let mama get a good look at your face." "Mama..." the prince held her dearly in his arms, placing her hand over his face, and he smiled at her, watching how vitality swiftly dissipated from her eyes. "Hao." she lay lifeless in his arms as he wept for her.

Afterward, Ying Zheng arrived safely at Xianyang, the capital of Qin, and on July 6th 247 BC, following the death of Zichu, Ying Zheng became the King of Qin, at the mere age of twelve.

"Let's walk my--..." Ying Zheng smiled, tying the scarf around his eyes. "No. Let's walk the Path of an Emperor. Together. Y/N. Chun-Yan." and true to his words, at 37 years of age, Ying Zheng became Qin Shi Huang, The First Emperor in History to unite all of China.

On the day Ying Zheng was crowned as the King of Qin, he also began being pestered by his advisors and elders to marry soon and produce an heir; After all, every King must have a Queen and concubines to perpetuate the royal lineage. Of course, the Prince didn't care for such things, nor did he want to think about anyone else that wasn't Y/N - But they were still so young! Life was fully ahead of them! On the other hand, it could be a great pretext to bring Y/N to the court and start lavishing her with all the luxuries that the palace has to offer.

Though the King of Qin had room for surprise, along with all the people at the royal meeting, as the large doors of the palace were pushed open, and a beautiful young lady resembling a flower fairy, dressed in rich silks, pink like the petals of a peony stepped on the golden rug that led towards the throne. She had a long spear in her grasp. As she started singing, the King ripped the scarf off his face, and those starred eyes gleamed with glee, his smile wide like never before. They truly must be soulmates, if Y/N could do exactly the same thing that he himself intended to do!

Two loving souls, so cruelly parted In madness and grief, a dark path started Calamity was drawn, rituals subverted But by her lovely dance, was sadness averted.

Ying Zheng didn't think it humanly possible, for a human to glide even more gracefully than he first saw her dancing, a few years prior.

The Phoenix returned to a home without luster; The cobwebs overgrown, the grave-shrouds a-fluster. But one bond upon her, This world could not muster.

"Thus does the tale of the Auspicious Phoenix end - Yet today, a new melody I have to append." the King was truly mesmerised by her lovely voice, and the way she lit the spear on fire and twirled it around so masterfully, kicking it and rotating with it, throwing it in the air, creating the image of a dancing Phoenix. "Hao! Sing me a happy story, Y/N!" he grinned, leaning forward in his throne.

From the world she seems apart But there is one who knows her heart With graceful swaying and a flaming spear To still the raging skies and the shattered hearts

Y/N's smile was so enchanting that it bewitched the King - Her dancing was as she hoped, a means to grow the seed of joy into people's hearts, replacing the darkening hatred.

The Phoenix once returned, And at once, she was spurned. She turned, and left alone...

Y/N, in a swift move, extinguished the flames from the spear, and stepped up the stairs leading to the throne. "Though now, she might be found to whom she is bound - Her love."

Ying Zheng's face was split by a wide, cheerful grin, and in an unexpected move, he threw his arms around the girl, pulling her into his lap and kissing her cheek. "Hao! My Phoenix returned home!" "Just in time to see her beloved dragon soaring the skies." she replied tenderly, only multiplying the excitement of his heart. "The only dance I love above all is that of the Phoenix and the Dragon amongst Heavens." he declared boldly. "Y-Your Majesty, who is this woman?! And how did she even manage to get inside the palace? With a weapon, no less!" having escaped the charm of the beautiful maiden, the elders started murmuring amongst each other. "She is the Empress, of course!" Ying Zheng laughed merrily, loving the unrest amongst his advisors, telling him he couldn't just marry anyone. "I am the King! I can do whatever I want!" and true to his words, Y/N had a most beautiful coronation ceremony, and her red and gold robes truly made her look like the Phoenix that she was.

Not only the Kingdom of Qin, but the whole Empire of China was going to prosper greatly under the rule of Emperor Qin Shi Huang and his Empress, Y/N. She was there to help him rule, with equal power as his own, and a fantastic wisdom and benevolence like no other. She was there to guide him as he walked the path of killing the demon Chi You. They lived a good life, along with all the people of China.

The two would love each other and live in perfect harmony until their eventual death due to mercury poisoning, at an age before even reaching half a century.

In the afterlife, just like in reality, Qin Shi Huang would have to fight to protect his people, as he was chosen as a human representative fighter in this mess the Gods created, Doomsday, the wish to eradicate mankind. He already killed a demon, and now, he was ready to kill a God.

He couldn't wait for too long in his own room, and with how directionally challenged he was, he walked through walls until he found the Gods' private balcony where Ares and Hermes were, and he flipped the God of War out of his seat, getting comfortable on the cushy seat, even causing the Messenger God to pour him honey mead.

"You know I can't walk fast in these clothes, you little menace." a feminine voice, very much amused, took the attention of the two Gods. "Oh, that's a lovely view of the arena!" the regal looking woman shamelessly sat on his lap, her arms around his neck as he offered her his drink. "This is really good! Can we get more?" bowing, the butler looking God poured some more.

The doors were slammed open again, and the little Valkyrie, Goll, yelled at them, followed by the elder one, Brunhilde. "Goodness! Even after I'd expressly told you NOT to leave your room - And what's more, you've left the corridors FULL of holes!" the elder one was more amused than scolding. "Mou mantai!" the two laughed, free of any care. "The road is where I lead!" he grinned, holding onto Y/N's waist, clingy like a child. "Come on, we have to go." Hilde spoke. "I refuse! We've taken a liking to this place! And besides, we definitely won't grow bored here." the man exclaimed. "In case you weren't aware - YOU will be fighting in round Seven." Hermes and Ares gasped in shock, as the Emperor, holding his love in his arms, jumped on the backseat of the couch.

"HAO!" he grinned confidently. "Finally! I'd grown tired of waiting!" "Now, let's head to the entrance gate, shall we?" Hilde sweatdropped at the unhinged behaviour of the bratty Emperor. "The dragon soars the path of the Emperor! The road is where Qin Shi Huang leads!" Y/N declared boldly, unfolding her fan dramatically.

From underneath the Gods balcony, all of China's Emperors after Qin Shi Huang unraveled a large red and gold rug, making way for the very first Emperor to lead the way to victory - Covering all the minor Gods from the stands. None mattered, except for Qin Shi Huang.

"Hao! That's how the Emperor has to be treated!" Y/N hopped from his arms, and off the balcony, waltzing ahead and leading the way forward - From her sleeves, butterflies would flutter, and where she waved her fan, red flower petals burning like cinders would breeze in a majestic dance, matching her own enchanting one.

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. He is gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn; Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets.

She sang the song that Ying Zheng loved the most, resembling the Goddess of the Luo River - The Beauty of China, Luo Shen. Though the Emperor hated that she ended up so heart broken over her husband's death, going so far as to drown herself in the river - He couldn't help but admire the pure love between her and her husband, mutually intertwined, just as he and Y/N were; Truly, all his life, he admired everything about her, and strived to become a man worthy of her lover. He wanted to be the man she could depend on, the man who could prove for her.

And thus, he became the Emperor.

As the song ended, Qin took out the bamboo flute and, stepping into the ring and playing the tune that harmonised perfectly with his Empress' graceful moves. Her dress, a deep shade of red like fire, flew around her like the Auspicious Phoenix that she was, and with her golden Dragon, they danced the Celestial melody of Heavens.

Heimdall, as well as all the rest watching, were mesmerised at the elegance displayed in their bonding, true love like no other radiating strongly from their smiles; He couldn't even begin the introductions as he watched the Emperor pick his lady in his arms, two fates intertwined, dancing coiled around each other eternally - And ending with a kiss. Their fairy-tale like love made all those watching deeply envious.

As the two lovers kept gazing into each other's eyes, the God announced the Emperor's great deeds, before calling out his title as the humans all chanted his name; the Gods boo'ed, angry that he was so arrogant, even going as far as too show off his love-life like that. As Y/N kissed him shamelessly, in front of the whole Valhalla, a young lady, Alvitr, had rageful tears in her eyes for being left forgotten at the Mankind gate.

"Mou mantai! I'm an Emperor, after all." he waved dismissively, before picking her up carefully in his arms. "Come a little closer." she was blushing so bad. "No need to be so rough, my boyish young lady." he chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, little lady. Zheng is going to take good care of you." Y/N patted her hair, watching her completely fall in love with the handsome man, and in one burst of lightning, the Volundr was formed. "Hao! This fits me nicely!" he grinned, showing off his Almighty Spaulders. "As handsome as always, my darling." she kissed his cheek again, though she felt a chill shiver down her spine as the God of the Underworld, Hades, walked forward.

Not only was he ready to avenge his brother, but he was also feeling envious at the way Y/N so openly loved and pampered her husband, the same way he wished his beloved Persephone would.

Before this battle of King vs Emperor could begin, Y/N gladed towards the stands where the Emperors were standing - Right where Chun-Yan and Chun-Ou were, and she got helped up in the stands. An Empress shouldn't have to find her way around the maze-like corridors - The First Empress of China had every right to walk the shortest and easiest road to where she wished to.

As the fight began, Hades thrust forward a single strike, loaded with tremendous power - A single thrust meant to kill. He continues to attack with one heavy-class jab after another, but the Emperor never once got hit; And even when he used one of his strongest attacks, named after his wife, Qin Shi Huang only had his body nicked.

The next straight thrust, the Emperor deflected, easily catching the handle of the bident before throwing back the attack - His own power added to that of Hades, sending him sailing backwards painfully hard - It was Qin Shi Huang's Chi You - Armor form: Sword, Armor, Spear, Crossbow, Halbert - Heavenly Hand of Defense.

As they say, the best offense is a good defense. The reverse is also valid. "Hades, King of the Netherworld... Was it? Let me tell you a thing." as the dust evaporated, the God's form was slumped to the ground, a large crater in the wall where he hit it. "There can only be one Emperor in the world, and that man is I!" he confidently declared.

He didn't fight for six whole days against the Demon God Chi You for nothing. He didn't raise above all the other so-called King for nothing. He didn't become the first unifier of China, the first Emperor, the King where it all began - For nothing!

Ying Zheng - Qin Shi Huang - Was the only man worthy of being called The Emperor!

Hades managed to stand up. He was bleeding from his head and his torso was injured. "Qin Shi Huang, was it? Tell me one thing - What in your eyes makes a King?" "A king?" he grinned. "One who never doubts! Never yields! Never relies! And always stands as the leader of his people! That is what makes a King!" Hades was awestruck by the answer, and even started laughing merrily. Nobody alive ever heard the Lord of the Underworld laugh so boomingly. Ying Zheng joined in the laughing. "You remind me of someone I know... All too well. He was more noble than any other God, more steadfast than any other - And the God most worthy of the title of King. My younger brother, Poseidon, King of the Seas." he extended his arm forward, showing off the weapon. "And I swear by his name, as his elder brother, I shan't give in to a mere King of Men!"

Thus, with a weird stance, Hades unleashed an attack, the proper way of fighting with a spear; With all his might, he delivered a crushing downward swing. The Emperor shielded himself with his arms. "I AM THE KING OF THE UNDERWORLD - HADES! FALL AND BE CRUSHED!"

The King of Men was slammed face-down, flat onto the ground. "ZHENG!" Y/N yelled his name, watching his spit a bunch of blood, struggling to stand up. "Ahh, it's sticky, all soaked with blood. Buhao." he groaned, hanging his head. "Mou mantai..." he sighed, a little disappointed as he took off his cherished scarf. All Emperors bowed down in his honour, gazing his handsome face for the first time. "Now then - Shall we continue, King of the Netherworld?" he grinned confidently. despite the blood painting his face. "So you can take one of my attacks and still smile. I would expect nothing less from a King!" Hades grinned, launching into a ferocious flurry with his rigid spear.

Qin Shi Huang has no choice but to roll with the thrusts; He was waiting for an opportunity to use his special technique. As Hades used the Smasher of Earth down on his head, the Emperor had to shield himself again; But this time, he didn't fall - Using his breath to weaken the attack, he grabbed onto the blade of the bident, and slammed the wielder into the ground, breaking it.

But just as before, any wound that Ying Zheng sees, he receives also - And though he managed to injured Hades, he also felt intense pain. Even in a direct combat, Qin used his breath onto Hades' chest, and with his claw-like fingers, he used the Mount Tai, Dragon Claw technique, delivering an intense strike, leaving an awful mark onto his abdomen.

Ying Zheng's starry eyes weren't just beautiful - They could actually see the stars of living beings. The flow of Qi. Qin could see the cruxes as stars. The double edged gift that served him as both a blessing and a curse. "Ahh, this is why I hate fighting with my eyes." Qin grinned, baring through the blazing pain in his abdomen. "Aw man, that really hurts."

"Don't make fun of me... Do you call yourself the Greatest King?" Hades chuckled light-heartedly. "King of the Underworld, you are strong - But I promised two special people that I would become the Greatest King - So I can't lose to anyone!" to get the most out of his fantastic martial arts, Qin Shi Huang was given a Divine Weapon specialising in defence - Alvitr; The secret ability behind her name is - Army Guardian! "You are strong, King of Humans. A promise of never losing, right?" Hades clenched his fist around his own blood. "I also have something I want to protect. My oath."

Thus, Hades advanced again, spinning his bident like a windmill, destroying the air bullets coming his way - Qin could barely defend himself against the attacks coming his way, though even when he struck, the two were equal in power, and Hades' forearm was mauled. "Even though you're human, you made it this far, huh? I'm going to kill you... But first, I wanted to say that you were magnificent." Hades declared boldly. "Hao!" Zheng grinned at his opponent.

From the stands, every human was cheering for the Emperor. Y/N especially was the loudest, along with Chun-Yan and her little boy, Chun-Ou.

Once again, Hades did something remarkably unusual - Not only did he begin to whistle the tune of his dear younger brother, Poseidon, before self-inflicting a large gash on his chest and splattering not only himself, but his weapon in a shower of crimson life essence. Drenched in blood, Hades rushes Qin, changing mid hit his thrust into a downward swing - He managed to find a way to counter his disruption of Qi. "You pose no threat to me."

Hades' blood wasn't SIMPLY blood. "Assemble!" the King of the Underworld ordered his weapon to transform into a mighty strength to be reckoned with; Any Divine Weapon that his blood, the Pluto Ichor, spills upon harbors the God's life force and becomes even more powerful... But the longer he keeps it up, the higher the risk of death. "King of Men, this is my trump card." he got in a battle stance with his new weapon, the Four-Blooded Spear of Destiny - Ichor: Desmos. "Tear at his flesh - Desmos!" this almighty thrust managed to break through the powerful armor of the Emperor. "I cannot lose. As their elder brother, I shan't be defeated!"

The Valkyrie Alvitr made herself seen to her human, worrying over him - Not only half of his hand, but his shoulder also were heavily destroyed. "Mou mantai. Compared to the pain of others, my own pain is scarcely anything to bear." he declared selflessly, like the fantastic leader that he is. "Alvitr... If we don't do something, we stand no chance at winning. I think we should bet everything on this next strike." he spoke, more seriously, only to annoying the young Valkyrie. "THAT WAS PATHETIC!" she yelled at him, as a scold. "SAY WHAT YOU WANT LOUD AND CLEAR, LIKE AN EMPEROR! YOU SHOWED OFF WITH YOUR EMPRESS LIKE THAT - AND NOW YOU WANT TO LOOK UNCOOL AND DIE IN FRONT OF HER?! IN FRONT OF EVERYONE BELIEVING IN YOU?!" she huffed like a brat. "How haughty of you, my boyish young lady." he smiled, looking up at the stands where his most cherished people were cheering on him. "I WANT TO WIN NO MATTER WHAT!" he yelled, loud and clear, as he should have. "Haha, I know! Really... You Kings are so stubborn!" she giggled, reinforcing their bond even further. "Let me give you all the power I've got!" thus, the Almighty Spaulders were recast into the Shi Huang Goujian Sword. The best defense truly is a remarkable offense.

"I am EMPEROR! King among Kings! And a King only takes pride in protecting his people!" Ying Zheng's starry eyes shone brightly with hope and power, whilst his dazzling smile remained as confident as ever before. "Excellent, O, lofty King - Now let us tear at his very heart, Desmos!" he, who bore the pride of the Gods and laid down his own life; The King of the Netherworld -- And he, who knew the pain of others, and fought for the sake of his people, the King Where It All Began.

Only a King can understand the mind of a King. And these two Kings could both tell that the end of the match was nigh.

Hades went forward, using Desmos: Eos once again, and Ying Zheng retaliated with Chi You: Sword Form; Shi Huang Yan cut. He was driven back, his already damaged left arm ripping clean off from the shoulder and flying across the arena. "ZHENG!" though the Emperor could hear his wife's desperate voice, calling out to him - He simply laughed merrily, seeing Alvitr's worried expression, looking down at him.

"It's beautiful...! What a beautiful star I see!" surprising everyone, the Emperor managed to use his sword to stand up once again. "A king never doubts. A King never yields. A King never relies." even with his arms ripped off like that, and the awful injuries sustained, Ying Zheng kept standing tall and ready to fight. "And a King never surrenders!" he was standing up through sheer willpower. "I can't let my wife see her husband dying, you know? I promised to only ever make her happy - So I can't cause her tears of distress now!"

He could hear them - The voices of the people. He's been fighting all this time to keep his promise to Y/N and Chun-Yan; To bring the people not hatred, but happiness. Everyone was cheering for him. The Greatest King of All Kings - Qin Shi Huang.

"Look, I know you don't wanna give up, but what are you gonna do exactly?" Alvitr asked, a little confused but ready to fight to the bitter end by the side of this worthy man. "I'm going to use Heavenly Hand of Defense once more." he spoke weakly, watching her distress and worry. "Trust me - I am THE Emperor!" Alvitr smiled, filled with hope and confidence thanks to this man. "You're just... Haha! No need to ask!" she, too, got in a fighting stance next to him, supporting him from within his soul. "HAO!" the Emperor exclaimed, thrusting the tip of his sword forward, to mit that of Hades' spear. "I consider myself proud to have been able to fight you." both the Gods and Mankind, and every eye upon the arena could sense that this very next clash would be the final one of Round Seven.

And the first to make a move was the King of the Netherworld, with a fearsome thrust from Desmos, loaded with all the Ichor that Hades could give; Against this gully-powered attack from the King of the Netherworld which seemed as though it could kill with a simple graze, the King of Men, without hesitation, caught it. Chi You Armor Form: Heavenly Hand of Defense.

Everyone had braced themselves for the end, save for the King Where It All Began... Who managed to use Tortoise Ripple to hit Desmos' Qi Star. It got weaker. Desmos was alive, not a lifeless weapon, and Hades hadn't taken that into consideration - He brought his spear to life, his most powerful advantage, but also, his most fatal disadvantage.

Ying Zheng had never forgotten, not even for an instant, that his own life began from the end - When the woman he loved most, his wife, along with his cherished mother-figure, Chun-Yan, showed him... That a King is one who arises from the end, and brings about the Beginning.

Desmos was shattering in his fighter's grasp, and the Human representative managed to impale his sword through the God's torso. "Magnificent!" Hades praised. "Nothing less...!" though he tried to use the broken handle of his weapon to kill Qin Shi Huang, he failed, for the Emperor sliced him open. "... from a King." Hades was unable to make good on his vow. He failed as an elder brother, but the Emperor managed to keep his oath to all the people that relied on him. "Forgive me."

As Hades lay dead on the ground, Heimdall announced Emperor Qin Shi Huang as the winner of the Seventh Round of Ragnarok, and with it, Mankind was in the lead, 4 to 3. "I am grateful that I could speak with you, King of the Netherworld." the Emperor clenched his fist to his chest, in honour of the admirable and honorable fight between two Kings. "Pengyou." through this battle to the death, the two Kings became friends.

Gods and Humans alike were showing their respects to the King of the Netherworld as he was shattering into glowing shard of green soul and ascending into the skies. In under 13 minutes, the King of all Kings defeated a God.

Just as before, the Emperors watching the match helped the Phoenix Empress descend into the ring so she could run to her husband, supporting him and the little Valkyrie lady up. "You were fantastic, you two. Now you may rest. I will take you to the infirmary at once." both of them, like a happy family, smiled at each other. "Don't push yourself too hard. You look even more banged up than me." Alvitr joked. "Mou mantai!" he chuckled at her reassuringly. "Mou mantai? You sure don't look it, silly man. Let me support you two." Y/N giggled, getting in between them two and holding onto them with all her force. "Honestly, it's a miracle you're even alive right now." Alvitr scolded him lightly. "That isn't true, Alvitr. Did I not say it before? Trust me!" his reassuring grin made the girl emotional. "You really are stupid." the Valkyrie's smile trembled. "H-Hey, can't you keep standing up?" Y/N released Alvitr from her grasp, supporting the Emperor as he lost consciousness. "Alvitr, if you have any strength in you, please help me hold him!"

The Valkyrie yelled for the paramedics to rush already - He needed urgent, intensive care. The nurses quickly brought the table and put the Emperor, rolling him quickly towards the Intensive Care unit where he will be taken until his condition is stabilised.

Ying Zheng and Alvitr also were kept in capsules to better their vital functions, and in between them, sat Y/N, smiling softly at the two. The Valkyrie was already a divine being, she was going to be alright... But Ying Zheng is still a human and was in a particularly critical condition - Whether he survives this or not, depends on his own strength to live.

"Ying Zheng and Alvitr. The Emperor of Heavens and his protector White Tiger." the Empress spoke gently, each hand laying on one of the glass capsules. "Alvitr, thank you for protecting my beloved Zheng. I will forever be indebted to you. My sweet child. Alvitr." Beautiful and divine, strong and courageous." her voice trembled softly. "My boyish young lady." her gaze turned to her Emperor. "Qin Shi Huang. The Emperor of China. The King Where It All Began. The First Unifier of China. The Golden Dragon of China. The Eye of Heaven." a few tears escaped softly down her cheeks. "Ying Zheng, my beloved husband, the beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes. The love of my life." her tender tears turned into heartbroken sobs. "I am so proud of you. So, so proud. You have always been a true leader for our people, and you were always such a wonderful husband, a partner, a friend. My confidant. My heart. My soul. My everything." though Goll and Brunhilde left, the Emperors whose paths were pathed by Qin Shi Huang were all standing outside the room, watching with heavy hearts, the shattered cry of the Vermillion Bird. "If the tears of the Phoenix could truly heal any wound, I would drown you in my cries and save you. If I could give my life to save you, I would transfer all of your wounds to mine own shell of a body, rip my flesh apart with mine own teeth and claws, and give you all of my blood, just to see you alive once more. My most precious sweetheart." the people watching all began to shed tears. "Just like the Goddess Luo who drowned herself in the river, so will I, out of grief, should you depart from this world before me." for one last time until her beloved would flutter his sparkling eyes open again, Y/N dried her tears and smiled brightly at Ying Zheng and Alvitr. "Hao! Mou mantai! Listen to my voice as I sing for you a beautiful melody. May you have sweet dreams and rest peacefully - And when your strength returns, please, return to me. And if not... The Vermillion Bird will burn to ashes, for the last time."

I want to be your love for ever and ever, Without break or decay. When the hills are all flat, The rivers are all dry. When it thunders in winter, When it snows in summer When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you.

Thus, a melody was sung, through the cries of the weeping Vermillion bird, burning bright as the Sun, for her celestial Golden Dragon of Heavens, and the almighty White Tiger, shining silver like the moon.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 18.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, life threanting child illnesses, references to masturbation, alcohol consumption, rigid/restrictive self imposed view of female sexual behavior, mention of character deaths, smut, explicit sexual descriptions

Notes: Just an interesting peek into four specific past events/time periods with the reader, from the various POV's of Jon, Ned, and Robb. Series Masterlist Here

Of all Robert's brothers, Eddard Stark would say he knew Stannis Baratheon the least in a personal sense. He had nothing against him, on the contrary. Robert gave no praise or a shred of thanks for it, but the middle Baratheon brother had spent the entire Rebellion with a tough resolve which few men could handle. For many, war was easy. They all knew how to fight, how to kill, but it took something else of a man to handle what he had.

It was a direct result of the only defeat their side of the rebellion ever had. The Battle of Ashford. Robert had moved his forces to the western border of the Stormlands to march on Ashford, right on the edge of the Reach and it was a risky move. Stannis had been ordered to hold Storm's End, but he warned his brother that taking his forces so far west so soon was a mistake. That he should instead march North and join Ned's own forces along with the knights of the Vale led by Jon Arryn. But he didn't listen, and Randyll Tarly defeated him.

The result however, was catastrophic yet necessary in a way that Robert never quite appreciated. His defeat meant that it left the Stormlands open to be invaded by Targaryean loyalists. Mace Tyrell commanded his men to besiege Storms End, thinking taking it would crush Robert's morale.

But what they could not crush, was the determination of Stannis Baratheon.

They surrounded the ancestral seat of House Baratheon for an entire year, and it would not end, even after Aerys Targaryean was dead. Stannis refused to yield like few would. Ned had mostly heard much of this from Renly, only a boy of six when it happened. A year they spent running out of things to resort to eating. Eventually they turned to getting creative, trying to find anyway to make something edible be it from anything before turning to the worst. Barley managing to feed his starving wife and little brother on the rare occasion Stannis could shoot whatever bird passed the beach from a bow.

Renly as Ned recalled, talked in great detail that Robert had insisted must be exaggerated, that as they would desperately be shooting seagulls down one at a time to keep from starving, while the Tyrell army of many tens of thousands, would feast in full view of the castle with the voluminous amount of food supplied by the Reach. By the time Ned had arrived with his forces, he had long since left the capitol on his own. The Mad King was dead, Kings Landing was under Roberts control, and Rhaegar Targaryean had been killed at the Trident as well.

Mace Tyrell gave no fight to the Northern army and submitted right away. It was a brutal way to spend the war, and yet Ned knew even if Robert wouldn't say it, that Stannis's ability to so determinedly hold Storms End was of vital importance to their side of the war. It tied down most of the Tyrell army for most of the war, which took such a large amount of strong numbers away from the remaining Targaryean loyalists. And he had only done so, with only five hundred men.

He knew bitter feelings were left towards him over it. But Ned knew why. He wasn't deaf to the stories boasted about the battles. What the victory on the Trident looked like, what the sack of Kings Landing was like, but there was no great battle in Storms End. But Ned more then any of them knew that if Stannis Baratheon had not held the castle the entire time, or given up at the last minute, Neds forces would have been overrun. Robert's and Jon Arryn's forces would have been overrun.

Perhaps he thought as well, if Robert had done his brother the fair thing and given him Storms End as was his right, maybe Ned wouldn't have sat there in his study that afternoon, shocked that the middle brother had even anything to say to him.

Robert had Stannis take his fleet to Dragonstone where Aery's second son, now remaining heir, Viserys, had been with his mother. Rhaella passed giving birth to a daughter and at word of their families defeat, a small few had smuggled the Targaryean children to Essos.

They had fled before Stannis was even given orders, but Robert was so enraged he blamed Stannis all the same. He gave Storms End to Renly, and gave the now unclaimed Dragonstone to Stannis. Ned would think, perhaps if he was given the seat he had all rights too, maybe he wouldn't look back on Ned lifting the siege in such a bitter light.

So, imagine Eddard Stark's surprise at a raven from the man, explaining that his only child did not have the proper resources available to them on Dragonstone, to give them the education Stannis wanted for them. He appreciated how blunt he was in his choice of words, that while he knows the two men were not anything close to well acquainted, he respects his abilities as a commander and a leader, and saw little other choice to send his firstborn heir to learn from.

Now, that wasn't unusual. Many highborns were sent to serve as wards to other noble Houses, Ned himself had spent half of his life being raised in The Eyire with Robert. Jon Arryn was to that day, a man who had always been as good as a father to him. What wasn't normal, was sending your daughters for that very same idea. Though, he wouldn't say he thought it was a bad one.

Stannis had only one child, a daughter of eight, and it seemed he was intending on giving her the education of any lord. Likely considering the implication as Maester Luwin had pointed out, it's possible he could be preparing for the case in which his wife may not be able to give him any other children. So he wanted his only child, girl or boy, to prepare to be his proper heir. Which was how they ended up going back and forth for a number of weeks going into detail as to what to expect.

If he were to think about it in retrospective, it might have struck Ned as amusing that his sons first reaction to the news was mostly indifference. Not that they didn't care, both of them did, but he imagined for the weeks leading up to that day, he knew they likely barley thought of it until the Starks begun preparing. He didn't blame them of course.

Robb and Jon both were ten, what else did boys of ten have to care about when they had as much energy as the two of them combined held. But then the day came that you arrived. A small girl even at eight years old, you stood notably shorter then his sons. And you were rather small and said very little other then your clearly practiced curtsy of greeting.

Only a number of household guard was with you, as one of them, a younger man by the name of Allard had explained in delicate manner that you might take a bit to feel comfortable. Explaining that it had been horrible coincidence that the day you were set to sail to White Harbour, was only a day away from the same night your mother, Selyse, had lost her second boy in the womb and you might be hesitant about being here after that so soon.

Ned recalled how you were deathly quiet, eyes wide and as overwhelmed as you were scared. Turning to Allard before he left as if wanting to ask him to stay. The young man had knelt down to your level, quietly telling you, “You're allowed to be scared, tiny doe. New places are always scary. First time I sailed east, my father and I almost got beheaded by a first sword of Bravvos. But now I have friends and ladies always begging for my return.” Rather then a scared look, Ned found it striking how much like your father and uncle your narrow eyed scowl became when the man added, “I'm fairly certain Northerners aren't quite as dramatic as that.”

You hadn't been there for long, when at one point when Ned's attention was needed elsewhere. He had you stay in the training yard while he went to fetch his wife to take over for him. He did however, remember turning to check on you once more time only to notice someone else instead.

And Ned had come close to a smirk right away, realizing what look a certain son of his, had on his face.

If Jon Snow had thought it would be an uneventful day, he had not a clue how wrong he was about to be. He and Robb both were aware Lord Stannis's daughter was set to arrive but they were kept busy in the training yard like usual. The brothers going back and forth between playful and competitive as Ser Rodrick would have to keep them on track sometimes when they forgot they were supposed to be having lessons, not play fighting.

His back to that part of the yard, not realizing when anyone had come through until he noticed Robb's attention getting diverted somewhere behind him. Lowering his sparring sword he nodded somewhat in that direction, “I think the Baratheon girl is here.”

Jon knew he likely was trying to distract him, so he only intended to look briefly just to see when he turned partially around. His grey eyes going from narrowed to wide and bright as he almost instantly looked again as soon as he tried to turn back to Robb. By one of the tables closer to the archery range, you stood mostly on your own next to Jory.

Hair long and dark, but he noticed your eyes right away. They were such a beautiful shade of green and they were so bright, but he could tell there was a lot of nervousness behind them. Your posture stood mostly curled in on itself, glancing around as your hands wrung together in front of you like a anxious tick. You were short and small, and despite your best efforts not to, you stood out in the yard. At least to Jon you did.

Wracking his brain trying to figure out if he could remember your name he had suddenly sensed something behind him. Barley turning with a duck in time as he glared at Robb, who looked at him incredulously. “Did you forget about not turning your back on your enemy, Snow?”

Moving quick, the two danced around the other for a few hits as Jon grunted out between swipes, “I'm not the one trying to distract his opponent, beacuse I can't hit him otherwise, Stark.”

Lucky for them, Ser Rodrick could see that the two of them were getting too distracted to focus properly. Sharing a glance with his nephew, Jory who was the one making sure you weren't left entirely alone, the two Cassel's clearly read the others intentions. “Alright you two, pack it up for the time being. Go act a couple of proper lads and greet the poor girl.”

Both of them moved quickly, Robb mostly seemed calm as usual but as Jon put his sword away he started to feel his heart race a little. Glancing back at you, still you had a nervous, lonely look in your eye but the boy too felt dizzy. As he and Robb crossed the yard, Jon felt like he wanted to throw up, he was going to have to live with you in his home for the next number of months. Which was making him nervous on his own.

Beacuse Jon was fairly sure, you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

You were quiet, and oh so polite. A very small shy smile and a proper curtsy, as you introduced yourself first. His brother had it easy, introducing himself right back as Jon stood beside him, suddenly wishing he were anywhere else. Hoping if he didn't say anything, he wouldn't have to ruin everything before it started. Thinking if he remained silent, you would assume he was no one important, but of course not.

You looked at him quiet for a moment before you glanced to nothing at the side, Jon not realizing he may have been coming off as rude instead of nervous. Robb nudged him in the side, causing the spell to break and Jon whipped his head to the side to glare at him. “She asked your name.”

But he realized why Robb wanted his attention, and he has grateful beyond belief for his brother. He knew exactly what he was about to be shy over. A silent ask whether or not he wanted Robb to just introduce him as his brother alone, but Jon knew you'd figure it out eventually. He may as well get it all over with now. Meeting your now curious eyes, muttering low, “Jon Snow.”

For a moment, he was confused. Beacuse you didn't react, or do anything or even shift your expression slightly. You just glanced between him and Robb before innocently asking, “Lord Stark's other son, or am I mistaken? My father said he has two.”

Nodding his head, he didn't get a chance to hear you say anything else. Both boys attention noticing Lady Catelyn coming that way, and truthfully, Jon didn't want to deal with that in front of the pretty girl he had just met. Looking awkwardly between you and Robb, Jon turned to make his leave just as he could hear her quietly introducing herself to you.

As Jon returned his focus elsewhere, he spared one last glance as you followed Lady Catelyn so she could show you around the castle. Only briefly did you catch his eye as you looked around again, and it was the first time Jon saw that soft little smile that you for years, only ever wore for him.

It didn't really clue in for him right in that moment, but in truth Jon had spent the rest of the day thinking about you. He didn't have the words of what a crush was right away, but as it turned out he had far too much time only hours later to begin considering it.

Proper meals were hit or miss for Jon. Some days it was fine, he and Robb paid mostly attention to the other and he didn't have to worry. Other days he would feel as if Lady Catelyn was eyeing everything he did or said to find something to call him out on. Were she to have it her way, Jon wouldn't even have a place at their table during normal meals, but his father wanted him there and Robb certainly would be the most vocal about arguing against it.

He couldn't help but wonder if having another person there would make it easier or harder. By the time both boys arrived though, Jon worried that maybe you changed your mind. You barley looked at him, and didn't speak to him but it wasn't until halfway into the meal did they all notice you were particularly quiet.

Barley having touched your food at all, your eye seemed trained on the wood of the table as if you couldn't keep your focus on anything more. Lady Catelyn had spent most of her time ignoring Jon and keeping an eye on how inward you acting. Gently having to call your name twice before you blinked, coming back to the world and looking up at her, then to the others. All of them watching with some degree of curious that had you looked away, swallowing hard with nerves.

Trying to quietly get you to speak up, she had asked you “Getting used to the food in a new place can be difficult at first. Is there something else we can find for you?”

Your head shot up, shaking fervently in a no with wide eyes. “Everything is lovely, my lady.” They all doubted that if to judge by the three bites in total you had taken, but biting your lip in thought before quietly looking between her and Lord Stark in a gentle tone, “I mean no offence, I am just not hungry though.” Once more your eyes flickered away before finding Lord Starks. “Would it be alright if I lay down for a little while?”

Speaking right away, Ned had no issues. “You've had a busy day, of course it's alright.” Turning to Robb, their father nodded in your direction, “Robb if you could show her to her room.”

Robb had begun standing up, and the chatter around the table was just enough that no one noticed until it was too late. No one noticed something was wrong until you had collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Every one of them that shot up from their own seats by then, a shock on their faces but it was his father who was the quickest to move. Catelyn and the boys watching from their spots now standing as he knelt down to look you over.

“Is she-”

As soon as Catelyn had tried to ask him something, Jon knew something was very wrong. His fathers eyes were wide, mouth more agape as if unable to choose between too many emotions and far more worry then he'd ever seen personally. Interrupting his wife with just as a rough but urgent tone. “Go get Maester Luwin.”

Catelyn tried asking again out of genuine concern, but he lost patience by the second as he checked on you, raising his voice. “I need him now, Cat.” Turning to his sons with just a short but urgent instructions, “Robb go with your mother, and bring him to the room we set up for her. Jon, come with me.”

No one had any room left for questions, his father easily picking you up and holding you close as they went their separate ways. Each time he glanced at you, Jon could see you looked worse and worse by the second and that panic in him built up quickly.

Helping his father with laying you down on the bed carefully, his father ran a hand over your forehead again, the sweat accumulating as if he had sat you next to a bonfire. “Open the windows.” Even with the cold breeze of night flying in, both stood there realizing it didn't seem to do a thing.

His voice very quiet asking what was it, and his fathers answer didn't make him feel better. A low tone that was more concerned then he'd ever heard before. Shaking his head somewhat confused still as he did so, “She's burning up by the minute. Go get me water and a cloth, now.”

Everyone was quiet as Luwin looked you over. His own face twisting into a worry as the rest of them could only stand there and wait. Jon and Robb both looked at the other, neither boy liking how helpless they felt. His father had come to your side as well to help Luwin with something and the two gave the other a significant glance.

By the time anyone spoke properly, Luwin turned to both Stark parents with a morose look on his face that worried all. “I would only be able to guess she has had this fever for days without telling anyone. An illness rarely gets to be this bad in only a manner of hours.”

You had yet to wake up. Ned standing still close to your bedside with a narrowed expression asking, “How bad do you mean?”

If they initially thought keeping it between them was a better option, Luwin decided against it. A sorrow in his tone as he looked almost apologetic as he muttered quietly. “I would suggest preparing a raven to send to Lord Stannis.” Glancing back at you then Ned, “One that can be sent out at a moment's notice.”

The dread in that room was something else, this had gone to something so serious it was deadly so suddenly. Lady Catelyn was quiet but a weight in her tone that was trying to hold a lot back. “What can we do?”

Luwin looked over you again, still not even a hint of waking up as he laid a back back on your forehead to feel the same heat. “At this stage there isn't much we can do but wait and hope she wakes up.” Her repeating the word hope with a concern, Luwin nodded grimly. “Whatever illness she's caught, it is advanced passed preventing something worse. Right now we can only watch to see if she makes it through the night, and the next few if lucky.”

The boys both looked at each other once more, neither doing a good job at hiding their fear as they knew on the others face already. They were worried it was their fault for not realizing you weren't feeling well when they had met you. Not that it was, but they were two boys of ten stuck in a scary situation they couldn't control.

“Someone will need to watch her at all times, the moment something changes I will need to know about it.” In an instant, Luwin, his father, and Lady Catelyn had all begun discussing their own duties and times to work around. Jon once more looked at Robb, following then his eyeline to you laying there as the adults debated who should give what up when.

Thinking to himself, maybe it would've been more prudent to let Robb say it first. He was the eldest, the trueborn son and such a task made sense and he clearly was about to speak up, but while Jon felt the same pull, he also looked at you intently, and something he didn't understand still tugged at his heart.

Like he truly couldn't leave this room when you were like that. So before anyone made any firm decision, Jon raised his voice loud enough to break through the noise. “I'll do it.” Silence fell over the room as did the eyes that all turned to him. The nerves ran somewhat ragged in his blood, but Jon swallowed that all down and looked between his father and Maester Luwin with what he hoped was confidence. “Somebody needs to watch her, right? It's already late, I can take care of her.”

If he was trying to focus on his father, Jon regretted the quick glance his eyes took towards Lady Catelyn as she looked at him. Or glared, to be more accurate. Eyes sharp and dark and her expression twisted into a disapproving frown as if he was some criminal ready to violate you the moment Jon was alone.

His father asking, “Are you sure, Jon?”

Thankfully, he felt more confident in his nod. Another didn't. “Ned.” Her voice as as disapproving as her glare. “She should be watched by someone who knows what they are doing, leaving it to a-”

But he interrupted his wife without malice, but with an ease. “Jon is ten, Cat. Not four. We all have things to attend to, and Jon would only be missing time in the training yard for now.” Looking to Luwin without waiting for any response, he was more focused then before, beckoning Jon to step further into the room with him. “You follow everything Maester Luwin says, alright?”

Bless Robb's young heart, hadn't quite caught that it wasn't one of the boys watching you she disapproved of, it was just the boy being Jon. Coming up to her, putting a comforting arm around his mothers side as it to pull her into a partial hug, as he watched you with as much tense concern as Jon.

Maester Luwin had gently walked Jon through the things he required him to watch for, to pay attention to, and what to do for you to ensure your fever didn't burn you up too much in your sleep. “Any change in those, I need you to come tell me about right away. It's vital we monitor her closely the next number of nights.” Jon moved right near your bedside and though he could feel the cold air from the windows, he too could see the sweat dampening your hair all on your own.

His father had leaned down to him, “I'll come check on you later, alright? Take good care of her.”

Jon didn't look back at his father when he nodded, but just when he thought he was about to be alone, did he feel eyes. Slowly, turning halfway to look at the doorway was her glare. Lady Catelyn stood there looking like something sat right on the tip of her tongue that no doubt would've made Jon feel even worse, but she glanced more softly at you. Her final glare to him less hostile before she made her leave without a word.

The older both of them got, the more Catelyn stopped withholding her spiteful comments towards him in private.

Jon hadn't diverted his focus even once. The way in which Maester Luwin had implied you might not survive the night, terrified him. Every few minutes he would check everything he was told to, and then tell himself as soon as he sat back down, not to get up and check it all again right away. Part of him didn't understand why he cared so much.

He didn't know you, you had barley said six words to him. The daughter of some lord Jon didn't know, but here he sat, too scared to look away in case you would die the moment he did. Didn't even bother getting up to find something warm to wear from the night wind, focusing only on whether or not the fur atop you was too warm and moving to leave the thinner sheets on instead, hoping it would ease your temperature.

It wasn't until many hours had passed, and likely much of the castle either sleeping or trying to sleep did he think more of it. Grey eyes painting over with something disappointed at the thought. That little smile you gave him across the training yard. No one ever looked at him so sweetly. Not that many girls around cared about spending much time with the bastard boy when the heir to Winterfell was always right there, but he never interacted with a girl that way.

Many would hear his name, and stop caring. You didn't even react when he told you he was a Snow and simply asked if he was the second son of Eddard Stark you heard about. No questions or wonders, just an easy clarification before giving him that soft smile.

Something in him started to worry, if you woke up now would you be uncomfortable that he was taking care of you on his own? Or worse, think that he was trying to make up for his surname by doing something to impress you? Would you think him pathetic if you knew he was hoping you'd wake up and he could have that smile again?

By the time the moon was directly over the lands of Winterfell, it dawned on him that this must have been what a crush on a girl felt like. To constantly think about them in a way that made him feel both warm and somewhat embarrassed. He couldn't have a crush on you, you were supposed to be here for months how was he supposed to handle that? What if you never woke up and his only crush on a girl was on a dying one?

On the chair beside your bed, Jons forearms rested on his knees as he leaned as close as he could to get a better angle to make sure even if he couldn't hear your quiet breathing, he could see it. Focused enough he didn't even hear the quiet footsteps coming down the hallway or the figure peeking in watchfully at the open door.

Ned knew out of his two sons, one of them was a bit more sensitive then the other. That wasn't to say Robb was insensitive, just that Jon was the one who felt things more. He felt things more intensely, and much more raw and he wasn't yet good at hiding that on his face. He wore his heart on his sleeve, even though he knew he tried to hide that fact.

It used to scare him. A lot about Jon used to scare him. The man was sure he aged decades in Jons first few years of life. Doing what Jon was doing now, watching intently only for a vastly different reason. His third nameday passed and Ned finally had come to ease up about certain aspects. The fear of what he might look like had gone away.

Then only to be replaced by the fear of who he would take after. Jon struggled with controlling his emotions more then Robb did when they were still young. Never out of control, but clearly Jon took to negative things harder then his brother and it used to be the new thing that scared Ned.

He didn't know much about the man and he didn't want to. But what he did know, he was terrified in ever seeing in Jon. But Northerners were not men said to be weak willed, and him being the one to raise him was doing better for Jon then Ned once feared. Certain parts still worried him, and as he leaned against the door frame, watching his son never take his eyes off the poor, feverish girl, unconscious in her bed, did Ned briefly see it.

Not in a thousand lifetimes would Ned ever use love to describe anything that man had directed towards Jons mother, but perhaps obsession was. Sometimes he pushed it away so deep that he never came close to thinking about any of it. But other times like that moment, Ned watched Jon and was trying to figure out what was simply a result of the life Ned raised him in, and what was something he couldn't control.

He trusted Jon to take care of you, he loved and trusted his son with all his heart. And it was nothing but a genuine worry and affection he watched you with, but it was an intense way he refused to look away that felt like obsession. Even if the boy didn't understand that.

It was one of the few times Ned Stark wondered, just how much of his father had Jon Snow truly inherited?

It was the third morning in a row the Stark parents were alone to break their fast. Normally, it was nice. The quiet between them left Ned and Catelyn the free time to enjoy the others company the way they liked, while somewhere outside in the training yard they could hear Robb and Jon both yelling at the top of their lungs with far too much energy.

But, it was silent. Those who worked around the castle were silent, the guards of his home were silent, and so were they. Ned knew Cat was first more on the side of grateful that Jon was missing more meals then normal. He was never comfortable with his wife's attitude towards Jon, but it was safer then the alternative of truth. It had been ten years since he brought that black haired, grey eyed baby boy home from war and they had simply agreed to speak little of Cat's negative views of her husbands bastard.

It was however, odd that in the silence, Robb wasn't there either. The first few mornings, they had assumed he wasn't in the mood for it, which he wasn't. Robb's lessons for two days, were ended rather early as he could barley concentrate. But then that morning he still wasn't there.

Asking Jory where his son had snuck off too, he had responded with ease of “Went to the kitchens early, brought something over to Jon to eat while Robb watches the poor lass. Was there yesterday morning too, not sure either of them have even slept the past few nights.”

Once more, Ned said not a word of the conflict in Catelyn's eyes as long as she didn't say it. It was the truth in the only ways that ever would matter for good, Jon was his son and he didn't appreciate her hostility being spoken behind his back as if Ned agreed. He was however, much more relieved at his plaguing thoughts of his son, knowing that clearly, his other son was as worried as Jon even if he was better at not showing it.

“Robb should take over.” Ned said his wife's name in warning, but she insisted in a more genuine tone of voice. “It's been days, if it goes on much longer someone will have to watch her instead, regardless. We should let Robb have that responsibility for a while.”

Shaking his head, Ned reached for a drink with not an unkind dismissal. “Jon is doing just fine, if he wants to take care of the girl, so be it.” His wife claiming he should be sharing his responsibilities when Ned shut the rest of the debate down, “Let him have this, Cat. He wants to do it, let him do it.”

Both unaware that Robb had been listening with a narrowed brow in frustration. Not wanting his mother to look badly on his brother, when Robb knew there was nothing wrong with what Jon was doing. Maybe if he did take over for a bit, his mother would be easier on Jon when he inevitably took back over.

“I'm not a moron, Snow.”

Jon tried and failed to not roll his eyes. He wasn't actually annoyed, but he hadn't slept for more then a few hours in three days. His eyes were dark, even beyond the dark grey inside them, and he was irritable more then usual. He had really only let himself sleep a bit when Robb was with him. Normally, it was entirely an accident. Jons head would be propped up on his palm while his elbow was leaning against something and he'd jolt back awake minutes later. Looking between his brother and you before standing up to check on everything all over again.

They were currently debating on whether or not Jon should go up to his room and sleep properly for a while, and Jon would argue that he didn't want to be away if something bad happened. Robb, who wasn't quite as well slept as he pretended to be, would throw back the insinuation asking if he was assuming Robb didn't know how to care for one sick girl. Leading to the debate right now.

Hoping he wasn't coming off as some creep the way he kept insisting he be the one to watch over you himself. And even more hopeful, that Robb had bought the story that one of the maids had done it for you, when his brother asked when your hair had been braided.

He didn't need to know, that in Jon wanting to get your now sweat dampened, messy hair from making you uncomfortable, he had spent an hour figuring out how to do a proper braid in the middle of the night. Three nights and three days had passed since you fell unconscious and Jon had fully accepted what he was feeling.

Because the feeling in his chest, matched far too close with the look of love in his fathers eyes when looking at his own wife. Jon didn't need you to wake up for that, he just wanted you to wake up so he could know you properly by now. Your fever had begun to go down, and significantly over the course of that morning did you begun to cool off enough that Jon closed the windows finally.

At some point, Maester Luwin estimated you would awake sometime in a day or two, and Jon now knew that he wanted to get to know you. Wanted to befriend you, because he needed to be sure the pretty girl he was in love with, at least liked him in a way that mattered.

Jon wondered if the old gods had been listening to him, because it was not much later when Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin had come to check on you did you begin to wake up. The boys kicked out of the room to not overwhelm you, and he still wouldn't see you until the next morning when she led you gently down to have something to eat with them.

You were even quieter then before, wrapped up in a thick, warm shall and looked rather nervous around them all, but that didn't go away for almost a month for everyone.

He felt terribly guilty about it. He was a teenage boy, it was normal, but he felt as if he was somehow in the wrong for doing it.

It all stemmed from how your last letter had been sitting on Jon's desk in his chambers for nearly a month and he still hadn't sent anything back. That wasn't the case with Robb, he knew the two of you still wrote one another like normal. But Jon let that last letter sit there, every now and again telling himself he would finally do something about it, but he would get as far as picking it up before changing his mind. He hadn't even read it yet at that point.

You had only been gone a little over four months but a lot had happened in that time, especially for you he had known. You returned home earlier then planned in order to be there when your mother went into labor. It hurt seeing you go sooner then Jon was ready but he understood that, other then you, she had never made it this far with another pregnancy and it was looking more and more like you would finally have a sibling all of your own.

Finally, only a fortnight after you left, your mother had given birth to a baby girl. He remembered thinking it was fitting you had a sister now. His two baby sisters were still quite young, and they had both taken their fair share attaching themselves to you like their own big sister. You would be perfectly ready to take care of one.

Around the same span of weeks, the Iron Islands had declared themselves as an independent kingdom once more, and a rebellion had begun against them and the crown. Taking both of your fathers away from you and Jon, as they left to fight that war.

Short it was, lasting but two months before they were able to sail to Pyke and after a siege, forced Balon Greyjoy to surrender. His other sons had been killed in the battle, and his brothers Victarion and Euron had been utterly defeated in battle at sea by Stannis Baratheon's fleet. The terms of their surrender in exchange for peace, was in part, the agreement that Balon's last living son was to taken by the Crown. Technically as prisoner, serving by action as ward.

Which was how Theon Greyjoy came into their lives. Serving in the North under Eddard Stark was the better option, not that the Ironborn would say it. He was struggling to get used to his new circumstances, but Jon and Robb were trying to make the best of it. Hoping at least if the Greyjoy found something of a friend in either of them, maybe he'd settle down. That seemed like the worst of it was over.

Until another raven had come. And it was that, which ultimately led to the guilt Jon sat with now in his chambers, far too late at night to be awake still.

Only months after her birth, your new sister Shireen, had somehow contracted a disease known as Greyscale. The entire island of Dragonstone was suddenly closed off and sealed to the world as everyone knew how bad it was. By the time his father sat he and Robb down about it, he had to be realistic about what he told them.

Saying it was possible by now it could have spread to the entire castle. Thus nothing was to go in or out of Dragonstone. No trade, ships, ravens, nothing. They had no idea if you were alright, and it hurt one more then the rest. Robb was upset and angry but he kept calm when not in private in order not to startle his younger siblings, who as of then, didn't quite understand the gravity of the disease being said was in your home.

But Jon? It wasn't good. He had no idea what to do about his feelings as it was, but this helplessness and not even knowing if you were safe, he hated it. Jon was in a bad mood all the time, he was irritable and short in temper.

It was the first time Jon was realizing, his feelings for you had grown out of an innocent childishness between two friends. He thought of you all the time, and he only got angrier everytime he remembered he couldn't even send you a raven telling you he hoped you were alright. Spent a lot of time in the training yard for the next number of weeks, trying to spend that energy on something but at night in the quiet? There was no distracting Jon from the frustrating degree to which he was undoubtedly in love with you.

Robb would find Jon wanted to spend more and more time distracting himself with anything, and more of his days ended up being spent arguing back with Lady Catelyn then ignoring her spite. It was a rough time, and he was pretty sure she despised him once he started letting his temper out more when she was rude or hostile. He didn't feel good about it, and he was never like that with his fathers wife after it had all settled, but it stuck out in her mind and didn't let it go.

Jon didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to tell anyone about his feelings for you. Beacuse with realizing his feelings were much more grown up now, came the understanding that he could never do anything about it. You were a highborn girl, born to the brother of the King. You were part of the royal family and Jon was just a bastard from the North.

It bothered him before, sure. But it wasn't until those days did it truly hit Jon that being with you would never happen. So by the time everything simmered down? He got your first letter in months, and Jon still hadn't opened it. He didn't know what to say.

He knew Shireen's life had been saved, he knew Robert Baratheon had come to Dragonstone to implore his brother he no longer wanted him to serve from there, and that he was of far more use living in the capitol. Jon knew your father had moved you to Kings Landing with him by then. But Jon only knew those things, because of what was said in your letters with Robb.

Jon didn't know what your letter said, but if he read it, then he'd feel compelled to respond to it. Which was the problem. You had been through a lot that made you vastly more mature then girls Jon knew that were your age, but you were also slightly younger then him and thus it made your innocence a lot more important to him. If by some miracle he thought, if you ended up developing anything close to feelings for him, Jon knew his would be different then yours.

He didn't know how to deal with it. He never had a crush before you, and he's never had any eyes for anyone that wasn't you since. It was always you, and Jon had no idea what to do about it all.

You were Jon's best friend. His beautiful, sweet, smart, but incredibly innocent best friend. There was no chance you had even a slight inkling of any physical feelings like that, and Jon wasn't even sure if you really understood what sex even was by that point. It used to be funny to tease you about it, but now it wasn't funny to think about. You deserved to be thought of in a better manner by your best friend, but the way Jon both avoided you and failed at avoiding certain ways of thinking about you was not what you deserved.

By the time you had been in Kings Landing for over a month, Jon still let that letter sit on his desk. Watching Robb answer the more he got, and you wouldn't send him anything. Jon knew you didn't want to send him anything if he didn't want to reply, worrying you'd be pestering him. So he just let you think he was mad at you.

Maybe he thought in retrospective, Jon wouldn't have felt so guilty about all of this, if he could go back and just not have given in. But far too late at night, he finally found it in him to open your letter. He could hear your voice so clear in his head, see you, feel you. The ease in which you fit in his arms that night by the lake without ever thinking twice of his affection. If he asked Theon, he'd likely say it was normal and to just not care about doing it.

It wasn't something new to him, he was a teenage boy after all. But that night, it was the first time Jon got off thinking about you. It took him about another month after that night to write you a letter back, taking that long due to his sheer guilt over it. Then he got your reply so soon, as if you wrote a long letter in minutes and sent the raven off the second you read his letter, excited beyond anything to hear from him finally. And for Jon, the cycle of guilt started over again.

Jon hated having adult feelings for you. Beacuse he knew without any doubt, you were not thinking about Jon, in the same way he did you.

It was a massive risk what he was doing. He should know better, he was a man now, not a boy. Yet, he couldn't tell if it was having just enough wine in him to lower his judgment, or if you simply made him weak.

The four of you had taken advantage of being mostly alone in the castle as far as the Starks went. It wasn't often they all had time to themselves, but they always took advantage of it. Jon, Robb, Theon and you, had all been in the Greyjoy's chambers having far more to drink then they should have. Which in turn, resulted in Theon commenting that he didn't understand how you could keep up with them. “How's a child that small handle that much wine?”

Your face twisting as you threw something at him, “Since when is seventeen a child, Greyjoy? I recall hearing you in here doing an awful lot a child shouldn't when you were seventeen.”

Theon arguing back as Robb and Jon watched in a high degree of amusement between them. “I'm a Greyjoy. We leave the womb practically men already. You on the other hand, I'm amazed you even knew what I was doing in here. Aren't you as innocent as a septa at this point, surprised you even showed up tonight.”

Your answer was to move quicker then he expected, snatching his own wine and downing it in one go with not a blink or flinch. Before leaning back in your seat with a smirk of your own. “I'm a Baratheon, if we're good at two things, it's drinking, and yelling.”

That in turn as well, resulted in you and him having a competition, some sort of drinking challenge that was common amongst Ironborn. The two wolves ended up watching in great entertainment how much you and Theon tried to pretend you weren't as drunk as you both clearly had become. Robb and Jon both laughing that they were grateful they didn't put money on it, because to all three of their surprises, you had managed to put on a fairly composed face for just long enough that Theon relented.

Granting you the title of victor as Theon stumbled back into a drawer, Robb laughing as he yanked him up to at least settle him. “If you're going to pass out, least do it on your bed.”

Theon had barley laid down, eyes shut as he swore at you under his breath. You managing to get a steady laugh out at his expense before moving from the table. Only the second you stood up, clearly the world had spun you off your feet. Theon grumbling from where he lay, “Oh so they rush to save you, but let me fall on my ass.”

Jon had grabbed you before you fell to the ground, but being pulled back into him only made you laugh more. Jon being drunk enough that he found no ability or notice to the way he smiled and looked adoringly at how easily you let loose. Robb had grabbed your hands to pull you more on your own feet as Jon kept you steady. The elder wolf half turning back with a quickness to Theon, “That's because unlike you, her ass is pretty.” You grumbled telling him to shut up, as Robb nudged you back with a grin.

Eventually, the two of them had decided to split up. Robb staying to make sure Theon wasn't about to throw up in his sleep, as Jon would bring you back to your own chambers. The door behind him had only just closed when he took advantage of the empty hallway. Going from keeping you at his side, to scooping you up in his arms, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck with a laugh as you protested with his name falling from your lips to put you down.

Jon had no proper sense in the empty hall, despite who was so close behind that door. Turning to look at you, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a needing kiss before mumbling against them. “Shut up and let me enjoy you, Baratheon.” Kissing you once more before you rolled your eyes, leaning into him with a smirk but relenting.

Bringing you into your own chambers, Jon had gently laid you on your bed. “Stay there.” Moving about your room in a moment, tending to the fire in your room before closing the window still open from the day. You had pushed up on your palms to sit against the headboard up right, eyes narrow as Jon then sat on your bed, reaching for your boots to begin pulling them off.

Your voice was quiet, quieter then Jon assumed you thought you were being. “I can do this part myself, you know.”

Jon barley reacted, instead moving to gently pull off your outer layers, knowing you'd just sleep in them uncomfortable by that point if left on your own. “Just let me take care of you.” He knew you caught his playfully dismissive tone, even as light as your mind left you. Leaning back more comfortably, Jon knew he could feel your eyes on him, trying not to feel his own flustering smirk. “What?”

But it was as he looked up at you, did your eyes seek his out, painting nothing but gentle and soft as you found no will power to look away. Mumbling a bit, “Why are you so sweet to me?” Jon raised a questioning eyebrow as he slid closer on the bed more to where you sat, waiting for you to elaborate.

Hand reaching out, you grabbed one of his, gently playing and mindlessly toying with his own fingertips as you spoke, before letting it rest in your lap still holding the other. “No one's ever been as sweet or nice to me as you always are. I don't get it, even tonight I'm only being a drunk pest but here you are anyways.”

His hand reached up, cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over the soft skin, leaning forward to let you feel more of his own warmth, rasping quietly. “You're my drunk pest, only I get to put up with you like this.” Your face twisted in a jesting offence, so he moved to lean forward. Hovering just above your lips, waiting for you to be brave enough that night to kiss him first. But you exhaled shakily, and so for another day Jon closed the gap.

His hand slipping behind to cup the back of your neck to hold you closer, your hands gently found themselves resting on his shoulders, nails digging into the material, as you let him softly guide you. His own touch moving down to your waist, as you let him deepen the kiss, leaving a small bite on your bottom lip. But it was the gasp you let you, that caused him to do it again, and twice more before feeling bold and using that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, running against yours as he felt you both tense and reach a hand up to somewhat grasp at the edge of his neck where his curls sat almost instinctively.

Jon tilted your head up just enough that you had no choice but to meekly surrender control over to him, as he let his tongue brush yours. As if trying to convince you to be brave enough to explore him back, but Jon had known you were not the same as where he was about these things.

Sure his only experience was you, as yours was his. Maybe it was spending the past around five years growing from teenage boys to men with Robb and Theon, perhaps it was just the natural inclination being a man that made his mind more susceptible to thinking about you so physically. He'd been thinking about you like this since he was fourteen, and it was four years on did he even kiss you for the first time.

Jon had a lot of worked up need held in his system, but he knew the only physical things you knew much of at all, were limited. What Jon had explored with you so far, even if it was next to nothing significant. And he knew the noble girls you spent time around in Kings Landing spoke more candidly about certain things, but he didn't know what those were.

So he tried to keep you as innocent as you deserved. Only, as your other hand slipped down to run along his torso, it wound up sitting just low enough beyond his hipbone, and Jon felt that spark of need.

Losing himself for a moment, Jon surged forward. Kissing you more roughly, switching between bites that left your lips tingling and overwhelming you with how much he deepened it in between. There had been something in his mind the second he felt your palm sliding so low without realizing, something that made his cock stir. Climbing up onto the bed, you had no choice but to lay out flat as Jon hovered over you. His hand on your waist now pressed into the sheets beside you as was now the hand at the back of your head the other side. Your own now both at his waist as Jon felt more in control over top of you.

More and more he forgot to ease up. The more he kissed you, the more of your sighs and sounds, the high pitched need he would capture with his lips, the more Jon grew hard. Forgetting himself, forgetting what he would tell himself, that it was his responsibility to keep you innocent. Both a burning need to feel you more against him when so close this way, and something more instinct as Jon moved to grasp at your thigh. Holding tight he slightly shoved it wide before pulling up the skirt of your dress. Not enough he could see anything, but still you gasped.

And Jon once more let his tongue taste inside your mouth, moving enough so that he had the proper space to press more into you. He knew the very moment you felt his covered cock hard against you, as you made something akin to a needing moan of a sound deep in your throat. The wine had made you pliable to his need, and it had clouded just enough of his judgment that Jon started to grind his hard cock into you.

Thigh hoisted up onto his hip, Jon would lick and bite at your lips in the same instance he would rut into your core. Your hands reached for his shoulders and back arched up into his chest. Were he sober, Jon would've been able to tell you were far too nervous for this, but he struggled to hear that in his mind.

He rutted into you, growing harder against what he could tell was so warm between your legs, even through all the fabric. His mind was difficult to read for himself that you two were far too new for this. You hadn't been expecting this, he hadn't done anything like this to you before, and yet here he was with a low growl in his chest at how good you felt against him.

Once more a large, rough hand grasped at your jaw and side of your neck as he held your lips up his without chance of escape, as your hands found comfort in raking through his curls. He growled into your mouth as you let out a quiet whine before pulling back. Small strands of saliva breaking just as Jon rested his forehead against yours, hips moving perfectly against yours, as you looked unable to choose between peering up at him and keeping your eyes closed. The only sounds between you were heavy breathing and a restrained need in Jons low sounds of a growl.

Jon had no way of knowing, impossible for him to guess, but that burning and twisting feeling in your core, was actually something you didn't recognize. Didn't understand what you were feeling or if it was supposed to feel this way. The only understanding you had, was you were the woman, so you were supposed to just do what made the man feel good. Even though your heart raced and your mind felt confused with so much wine in your system, you tried to move against him because you wanted him to keep feeling what clearly felt this good for him.

Yet, as soon as you tried to move back against his hips in return, did Jon suddenly pull back. Kneeling up moreso between your still spread legs as you both panted to catch your breathe.

He looked down at you, the innocent confusion mixed with something overwhelmed in your eyes as you braced yourself up on your palms waiting for him to say something. But the more his gaze trailed down your body, the more he sobered up and the worse he felt. Pulling your dress back down modestly, Jon almost climbed off the bed entirely before you reached a hand out to his arm. “Wait- did I do something wrong?”

Jon's entire face twisted as he breathlessly looked at you with narrowed eyes, “What? No, of course not-” You had started to stammer asking what you did to make him stop, but suddenly the clearer Jons mind became, the more he realized how not even slightly clear yours was. You were so much more drunk then he was, and so much more willing to do only whatever he wanted.

Tentatively, his hands rested on your thighs, pausing as he went to move to position himself beside you, a gentle look in his eyes with a murmur, “I'm right here, lay down for me is all I'm asking.” You looked at him unsure before relenting. Laying down more comfortably, as Jon found himself laying on his side beside you. Tilting your head to look over at him with a hand gentle on your cheek. “You didn't do anything wrong, but it's not alright of me to take advantage of you when you're drunk.”

Your face both twisted in frustration, but also fell almost innocently confused. Your voice was even quieter, “You can't take advantage of me if you already have me in bed.” Jon could tell you had no awareness that you weren't anywhere near sober. “It doesn't matter Jon, just keep going.”

Letting his head fall somewhat into your neck, you reached up to gently run your hands through his curls as he turned your cheek better to fit your lips to his when he raised back up. Nothing deep or tense, just a chaste kiss as he mumbled against them after. “You're not a whore I've paid for, darling. You're not supposed to just lay there letting me do whatever I want to you, no matter what. You have to want it too, and not when you're this drunk.”

It was almost endearing, the way your brows furrowed. Tonight was bad time to have this discussion, you weren't sober enough to grasp his point. Evident by your very quiet plea, turning onto your side somewhat to see him better. “I don't care about any of that, you were enjoying yourself.”

“You're supposed to enjoy yourself too.”

Seven hells, did you ever break his heart as you so earnestly responded, “No, I'm not.” What on earth had those other noble girls in Kings Landing been saying to you? What could they possibly have told you that made you think you shouldn't- he had to reign his emotions in. Jon felt himself getting angry and he desperately did not want you to think it was at you.

Your green ones stared intently into his bright and tense grey eyes, until Jon sighed deeply. Running his hand along your cheek innocently again before muttering, “Get some sleep, we can discuss this tomorrow when you're feeling better.” Ignoring as you mumbled that you felt fine, as Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Not a second did he get away before you switched moods, reaching out to him the second he moved to get up. “Wait- stay.” Your urgency almost surprised him as well as yourself. “Just...just for now..I don't want you to leave yet..”

Jon knew staying was a risk. If he fell asleep, someone could easily come and find you both like this in the morning. But you were so soft, and your eyes so bright and innocent looking up at Jon that he hated how quickly he gave in. Nodding before pressing one more kiss to your lips. “Only until you fall asleep.”

Turning so you were curled into his chest facing him, Jon couldn't help but decide the risk had to be worth it. Nothing was going to outweigh how perfect it felt to have you fall asleep in his arms. Or, perhaps that was only a confident thought until Jon accidentally let his eyes slip closed. And falling asleep right with you.

If the look his father gave him, when he noticed Jon sneaking into his own room so early in the morning that the sun was barley in the sky, had said anything? Jon was at least glad he stopped himself before he took the previous night any further with you. Otherwise the innocent guilt of being noticed sneaking around would have been a lot more obvious what he was sneaking away from, had Jon taken your body the way you had told him too.

Jon knew he wasn't supposed to be with you anywhere near this way, but if you were both going to keep this between you, Jon had to step up. He had to be the one to ensure he protected your innocence, even against himself.

Unbeknownst to him, Jon was lucky his father trusted him as much as he did. Ned was aware that if there was only one thing he could be sure of, is was that there was no chance Jon would so recklessly take your maidenhead, and certainly not like that. When he could tell the signs that his sneaking son so early in the morning, had clearly been drinking the night before. Meaning you had been as well.

He knew he was better then that, so he said not a word but a nod to him, despite the wide eyed, confused, and nervous look he got from Jon in return before they parted ways. But after that, Ned silently and closely paid attention. He watched yours and Jon's affection grow closer, and it became clear there were more then just feelings. There was something there that you and Jon were trying to hide from everyone but each other. But Ned knew that you made his son happy, and his son made you happy.

He had thought, maybe that would be enough.

Ned had always come to the godswood after taking a life. He would sit on the moss covered wood and stone in the still warmth of summer, taking every care of Ice as he contemplated the truth of what he always had to do. The lad, Will, he was the fourth deserter just that year. Something kept driving them to run from the Wall, and according to Benjen more rangers would disappear in increasing numbers these past years. He hadn't slept well the night before thinking over it.

What the ranger said too, it kept him up far longer then he would admit to his wife. So he had come here to think in the quiet of the old gods. The last he had seen of his children they were spending time in the kitchens, the younger ones all debating what to name their wolf pups. Another strangeness he thought not what to make of it.

His first choice was only out of survival, so young they stood not a chance in the wild alone. He didn't like hearing the innocent plea of his son, but it was cruel to leave them out to die when a quick one would spare the kind of things that ended their mother. An argument had almost started over it, Robb and Theon grating their tones at one another over the decision, Bran begging for it against Neds firm choice of their fates.

Very likely, anything else said he wouldn't have heard more of it. But it was how unusual it sounded coming from his sons mouth. It wasn't the first time Jon had chosen to be purposely formal about his position, but it never felt normal to hear “Lord Stark,” it was uncomfortable and he knew why. Had any of his other sons suggested it he might not have considered. But he knew what Jon had done.

Jon had willingly counted himself as not one of the Stark children in order to convince him that they were meant to have the wolf pups. Had that been Bran or Robb's argument he wouldn't have heard it, but it was the sacrifice Jon made on his own that stood out to him. So he let his sons bring them home, only to quickly notice that Jon had returned to the horses with a sixth. A small, but bright white one with large blood red eyes that reminded him of the colours of the Weirwood he now sat under.

It was interesting he had thought, that it was that blood red eyed wolf pup that could see perfectly, while the others were still just as young and still blind. It was odd it was only that one.

But, whatever of the wolves and words spoken of the North that found plagued his mind, was nothing against the words which followed in the air. Catelyn had come to him, she never liked the godswood of Winterfell. Born under the Light of the Seven just as all southerners were, Ned had the small sept here built for her when he finally brought her up to the North. He knew some news must have occurred to bring her in a place she little liked to disturb.

“All these years and I still feel like an outsider when I come here.”

Smiling at his wife, he easily dismissed such notions. “You're not an outsider, you have five Northern children.” Going back and forth about their gods, and he always found himself thankful they could speak with such ease over the differences still between them. But it didn't stay easy for long.

A raven scroll sat in her hands as she looked up with a genuine sorrow. “I am so sorry, my love.” What tragedy came with such news, ended up being nothing against the mysteries that had wrapped itself around it, prompting her to continue. “There was a raven from Kings Landing. Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him.”

If Ned's grief could go back in time, he would have wished for himself to be thankful that the man had not lived to suffer, as it felt all of them did in what became Ned's final days. The pain was shaking as he sat in the godswood, but there was little he knew what to do with it or how to feel. Trying to push it down, but his wife always saw him perfectly, gently finding her words once more, “I know he was like a father to you.”

Only, it wasn't the end. It was the beginning of an end for himself, but the start of a nightmare he had not recalled so vividly and fearfully coming soon onto twenty five years.

“The raven brought more news. The King rides for Winterfell. With the queen and all the rest of them.”

Ned said it just as it came into his mind, neither of them needed to say it out loud so specifically to understand. “If he's coming this far North, there's only one thing he's after.” More then two decades had passed, Ned knew it wasn't a reasonable worry to think Robert would find out now. But it still scared him.

That boy was his son, for every single way it mattered to Ned that was his son, but it still scared him. It sacred him despite knowing that wasn't any that might in his eyes, face, looks, nothing. He was more of a Stark then any of them in every way. It was an awful thought, but he hoped Robert by now had long forgotten what she looked like. And maybe, he'd be able to see none of her in him. Beacuse one look at his son, and he could see every part of his looks, his son had gotten entirely from her.

Had she been here, they could've stood side by side now, and looked identical.

But once more, the gods loved their cruel jokes. Catelyn now sat next to him, gave a look to the side of her. “There is one more thing.” Much to Neds surprise, your name came from her mouth. “She will be riding with them to Winterfell. Her father has left the capital for an unknown amount of time and she is to return to serve in his place on the council when they leave here.” Ned had a distinct feeling Catelyn wasn't merely making small talk. “But that isn't all. The King himself has ordered her to do one thing while she is still in Winterfell.”

As it turned out he realized, you and Jon making each other happy, wouldn't be enough any longer.

Robb Stark knew many in arranged marriages never even saw each other for the first time until their wedding day, only found out then if their betrothed was someone they could even stand to look at or talk too. So, in such a way, Robb knew he was lucky. He had known you since he was ten, and he was as close with you as any that entire time.

But neither of you thought this was coming. If Robb knew you well, the moment he was likely to be alone with you for the first time, you would begin to apologize as if it was your fault this was decided for you. He would have to shut that down and fast. You'd spiral if Robb let you.

It had been along time since he had ever thought of you in such a way, he was still a boy when he once had a crush on you. But much like many experienced, it was fleeting and he found more solace in your friendship then worrying about anything further. That further was now though. Or, if timings were correct, a fortnight from now.

Robb would retire to his chambers at night and would find it such an odd image to think only in one more fortnight passed, it would be yours to share. The room, his space, his life and his bed. Being a boy of fourteen with a crush was one thing, it was another for ten years later to be told he only had one month to prepare to share everything of his life and himself with you. Marrying you wasn't the worst part of it, it was getting over how sudden and new it was going to all be.

He had smirked to himself one night with almost a passing huff of a laugh, thinking about how nervous you inevitably would be about kissing him at the wedding. Perhaps if you didn't have to do so in front of the royal company you traveled with, it would be much easier to do so in front of the family you spent half your life around.

Though, royal company or not, there was one who it wouldn't be easy on no matter what. They only had to watch, but Robb had spent the past weeks growing increasingly guilty about becoming comfortable with marrying you, as his brother had spent growing angrier and brooding without ever telling anyone it was because of the same thing.

Jon Snow had spent the past weeks in a terrible mood, because Robb was marrying you.

He had spent a good amount of time trying to figure it out, what was going on in his brothers head but it wasn't until their father and Robb's mother had told all of them what the situation coming their way was. If two bits of news weren't enough, it was the third that caused him to realize it. Every single one of his siblings all had their own reactions to learning the King was ordering you to and Robb to marry, but it was Jon who had none.

There wasn't a single readable reaction on his face, and Robb knew too well how bad that was.

In truth, it didn't occur to Robb as a shock or even surprise. Jon never had a relationship of any sorts, and the only girl he spent any meaningful time around outside his family, was you. Robb was close with you, but he knew Jon was closer. And it only made sense eventually Jon would start seeing you in a different light.

His brother didn't really have a type, but the only one that made sense was his type being you. Robb didn't know if there was more to Jons feelings, if there was anything romantic he felt towards you, or even how long Jon had been looking at you in that way, but it was clear as day.

Jon wanted you, but Robb would now be the one to have you.

Not that he blamed him. Robb had his turn with a crush on you as a boy, and now that you were Jons best friend and had grown up to be gorgeous, at least in Robb's view, spending so much time alone with you finally had an effect on Jons brooding, stubborn heart. And yet he spent as much energy as he could, trying to ease Robbs nerves about marrying so suddenly.

The closer the royal company came to arriving, the worse Robb watched Jon feel. He couldn't even be sure Jon had kissed a girl before, but he certainly wanted to fuck one, wanted to fuck you. But he knew the reaction if Robb ever confronted him about it. Jon would shut down and never even come close to talking about it or you again.

So he had to act natural. Pretend as if he was none the wiser of his brothers deep want of Robbs soon to be wife. He had to act normal when Theon would turn the conversation to the coming inevitable during the wedding, and balance that act of being modest yet interested in what all of them knew was a very pretty girl. And also contrast it with not wanting it to feel like that fact was being rubbed in Jons face without giving away that he knows.

Maybe Robb thought, it would've been easier for Jon to handle if he had just taken the risk and fucked you during your last visit. Get it out of his system. He knew the opportunity was there. Their father and Robb's mother had taken the Stark children out of the castle for the day. Much of their main guard came with them, as did Theon naturally being their fathers ward.

You were moreso at that point a ward serving Winterfell as a whole, and Robb knew his father trusted that between you and Jon, things would get done without question. Their father always trusted Jon with as much in leadership, if not more then Robb himself sometimes. Considering by late night when they had arrived back, everything was in perfect order, clearly you both had spent the entire day doing just those duties.

Robb now and then, though then it was only a growing suspicion, couldn't help but think, it would have been so much easier on Jon, had he seized the opportunity of being alone in the castle, and taken you to bed. Jon was brooding, and intense and rough sometimes.

But even if no feelings were there, Jon very clearly adored you. He was brighter and smiled more when you were in Winterfell and you both always found your spare time with the other most often. It wasn't like his brother would have given you a miserable time, Jon loved doing things for you as it was.

Robb knew that was certainly the opposite between them. Jon would very likely have taken being the one to have your maidenhead very gentle and seriously, not letting you leave until he was certain you enjoyed yourself. Robb however, knew he was going to struggle to be easy and gentle come your wedding night. He also couldn't stop the thoughts of just what he wanted to do, what he wanted to explore with what was his soon to be, pretty little wife.

He hadn't been with a woman in years by then, but still. Women didn't come to Robb Stark for a gentle love making, they came to get fucked. He wouldn't have minded either. He didn't care if his wife wasn't a maiden on their wedding, certainly you. To any other husband you would have been married off, to had the Queen been given her way when you were a girl of fourteen, Robb knew you being a maiden would've mattered. But he didn't care.

If his brother of all people was the one to fuck you before Robb, that was the only one he'd trust.

But instead, Jon was a gentleman as always with you. The one opportunity he would have had to pull you into bed with him, and Jon didn't take it. Part in due because he was nothing but entirely respectable towards you and what all three men knew was your endearing innocence, but also because he was a bastard, and you were the Kings niece.

Inside the castle walls, their father wanted Jon to be treated no different then the rest of his siblings but everyone knew it wasn't like that in the outside world. Bastards were simply treated differently, and it wouldn't stand out in a good way to so blatantly show such treatment to Jon when many places in the North didn't treat their bastards as such. And he knew that too well, and never let himself get too complacent.

You had joked to Robb once that maybe he should've been born on Bear Island. It was a long standing rumor that the Lady of Bear Island, Maege Mormont, had all five of her girls from different fathers. She had never married, and her second eldest daughter Alysanne was unmarried with two children of her own as well. And they all bore the name Mormont and no one ever questioned that about them.

You had said in a quiet but what Robb knew was a very serious tone, that it would have fixed a lot of Jons personal struggles if the rest of the world outside the castle walls didn't treat him like a bastard the way most in here didn't. Though, you did also add amusingly, “Perhaps the lack of such loud, rowdy, Northern men has something to do with such tolerance amongst the Mormonts.”

Robb had been helping you with something in the storage by the stables, and he recalled Ser Harwin trying not to laugh as Robb grinned. Grabbing you by the hips and almost hauling you up and over to where a basin of fresh water sat. “If we're so rowdy, my lady, best not insult us in case we won't tolerate that little attitude.”

There wasn't any changing things now. You were about to be Robbs wife, and none of you could go back. Robb just wished Jon weren't so bloody selfless about you. But then, word had come to Winterfell that the next mid morning was when the Kings company would arrive and it was only a matter of time before Robb and Jon both would have to accept their fates.

As it stood, Catelyn had told all three of them, him, Jon and Theon that they were to at least look respectable for the King. Sending them off to Tommy to get cleaned up. Facial hair clean shaven, and hair nice and freshly cut. She said it was for the King, but all of them doubted that. Jon was the first to speak up, “Why's your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?”

Theon, who was waiting to go last had that answer. And both wolves did a good job at not letting either of them have a real reaction as your name came from his mouth. “It's for her I bet.” Gesturing towards Robb, “And if you have to look all nice fancy for your betrothed, then so do we apparently.”

“Not like she'd care.” Both eyes directed up towards Jon who was stood opposite of where Robb was being tended to first. “We spent half her life roughing her up in the training yard, looking nice for one day won't change any of that.” Jon was doing a better job at appearing neutral these days.

Theon replying, “I'll wager the Queen will spend half the morning tomorrow trying to doll her up. Might get to see what a royal girl is supposed to look like on her for once.” Robb had passively asked with jest if he'd been thinking of that a lot. Theon's face falling amusingly flat. “You assume I'm thinking of her, when we got the Queen coming our way. I hear she's a sleek bit of mink.”

Robb not bothering to entertain that conversation, “I hear the Prince is a right, royal prick.”

Theon had joked about all the southern girls he'd get though, and Robb still noticed it. Even with the change in subject, Jon was silent. But it wouldn't change. You'd arrive tomorrow morning, and in some week time, Robb would be the one to marry you before the Weirwood.

He wasn't going to make it worse for his brother, by treating him as if he knew any different. If Jon hadn't said anything by now, clearly, he didn't want Robb to know anything. And he respected that, so instead, as he stood, Robb did what he knew best. Just play normal. Smacking Jon as he shoved him passed to switch positions with a playfulness on his voice, speaking the opposite of the truth.

“Go on, Tommy, shear him good. He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.”

Neither of you were sure when this idea even came about, or if either one of you had actually said it in the open air. It was just felt in the backs of your mind as you both sat there, where this day was leading ultimately. What would it's end result in and what happened from there.

It started off as a strange feeling as normal as it felt. You and Jon rarely spent time alone so freely, but both of you sat in the quiet to eat. Being able to take your time, joke and laugh freely not worrying too much about what to do or say. It wasn't often you got to see Jon smile and laugh so easily and it made you feel just a bit warmer on the inside whenever it was from something you said.

Jon also, had never looked so freely bright and adoring at you out in the open before. The workers and guard around the castle didn't pay much notice to it, not much to pay attention close too. Most of the Starks gone for the day, leaving behind Lord Stark's younger ward and his bastard son. Eyes didn't pry as much. It certainly made Jon a little more playfully bold.

You had been at that point picking mindlessly at the food in front of you, mostly taking advantage of the fantasy of having a normal meal as if you two were a normal, domestic couple. Speaking candidly through bites, “I could almost swear he did it just to make me uncomfortable.”

Jon's brows narrowed as he leaned forward across the other side of the table from you, “He never tried anything did he?”

In truth you almost laughed, shaking your head instead. “Petyr Baelish is a smarmy little weasel, but isn't stupid. He doesn't just do whatever he wants, he had to be clever about it. And for me, what he wants is just to enjoy making me stand there and discuss budgetary matters, while he moonlights as the capitals favourite whoremonger.” Your eye roll came with a sigh, and Jons shoulders relaxed noticeably.

Tilting his head a bit, you knew the look in his eye was genuine as was the softness in his tone. Perhaps if you were speaking of here in Winterfell, that advice would work. “You should tell someone, you sit on the council like him. He shouldn't get to treat you like that.”

But the doubt in your eyes came as strong as your tone was flat. “And say what? That I'm being forced to sit in a building full of naked women for free? I'd be laughed out of the small council chamber before I even finish that sentence.” Jon shook his head almost too himself, when you let your forearms rest crossed on the wooden table as your voice softened. “It's only annoying. Not upsetting, you don't have to get protective about everything,”

Your foot moved to gently nudge what of his leg you could reach when Jon sent his hand down to grab at your foot, pulling you closer to the table as he let your foot rest on his lap. Your boots just short enough that with one of his hands resting visibly on the table, the other gently pushed just enough of the skirt of your dress up, that he could run his hand mindlessly over your shin and calf.

Jon said nothing about how flustered his touch was making you, speaking to you like normal save for the mischievous glint in his eye. “You look like you want to say something.” He knew you too well, as soon as you went to lightly kick him, Jon grabbed your shin firmly and tugged you back into place, his grin growing easy as your face twisted in an exaggerated offence.

Your voice a accusing jest with narrowed eyes, “Aren't you just the funniest man to ever walk these halls, Snow.”

Jon only smirked, nodded at your plate with as much mocking disapproval of your tone. “Finish your food, Baratheon. We have work to do.”

Nothing about the average course of the day stood out, it was easy to get things done in between Jon being able to more freely enjoy your company with whatever you both had to do. You laughed a little more easily, Jon teased you a little more purposely, and yet you both were ignoring the inevitable of what was being led too.

For six years this little romance had been brewing in secret, and in those six years it had taken a long time to get to here. Sure, technically you were gone for months in between but for many couples Jon would have assumed that distance would've made both parties even more eager to push things faster and quicker. Not to say the pair of you were terribly slow, no, you both went at the same pace.

Jon had no more experience then you did, and you knew a lot less about a physical relationship then even he did. He was certain there was very little you were likely even aware that there was to try, and the only thing you came to him with on your own wasn't your idea. Just what you heard the girls who hung around the Winter Town brothel would speak of, and assumed it was something you were supposed to be doing.

It had taken perhaps, a little bit longer to get to this point because Jon didn't want to rush you into anything. You clearly had a not very fair view of what was expected of you as a woman in terms of sex, and it took those first couple of years with the other to gently teach you that you were supposed to enjoy each other, and nothing more. You always did things for others, and Jon knew you assumed that this was just another one of those things.

Neither of you had even done very much in reality, not compared to what you could have been doing with the other. But somehow, you both landed on this. That maybe this opportunity was for the act that mattered the most. You were returning to Kings Landing not long after that day, and you both had decided it was the right time.

Jon had spent a lot of time thinking about it, how to do it, what would be the most comfortable for you and by that late afternoon he had gone through the plans in his head more times then he could count as he made his way to his own chambers. First plan being to make sure everything was as organized as possible, make sure it was warm enough before going to go get you.

But you instead, had apparently decided to make that step for him. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you sitting at the edge of his bed. Your hands wrung together in your lap clearly trying to not appear as nervous as Jon could tell you were. Realistically he knew no one else was around, but he found himself checking the hall behind him regardless before closing the door.

Something a little more easily playful on his tongue couldn't get spoken faster then your rigid explanation, trying to appear as calm with a little shrug. “I figured it would be more simple if I were already here, rather then you having to come fetch me and we then would have to walk over and pretend as it everything was normal.”

Nodding gently, Jon paced in slowly as if not wanting to startle you. His eyes narrowing a bit in thought as he tried to gauge just what your nerves were settled at. “How long have you been waiting?”

You shrugged, trying to appear normal as if Jon couldn't read you like a book. Glancing away as you glanced around his room to nothing, “Long enough I almost talked myself out of it again.” Jon repeated the word again as the came to stand somewhat in front of you, a good few feet away to give you space to think. “I only meant, I won't particularly know what I'm doing so maybe you wouldn't..”

Only a few paces of footsteps rung out before Jon stood in front of you. One hand held out, your head tilting up to the bright, genuine shine in his eyes. As soon as you grabbed one, he pulled you up with the other, letting you rest your hands where you were comfortable, as he gently held you by your upper arms. Leaning down to softly rasp, “I don't need you to know what you're doing, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Jon waited for you to nod, normally he'd want to hear you say it, but he could feel the nerves flooding your veins from where he stood. Letting a hand run over your hair before tilting you head back up to his eyes when it dropped, your voice was low when you finally spoke. If you weren't so nervous, Jon would have smiled at how formally you tried to approach it. “How do we start?”

The smile slipped in just as he leaned down to brush against your lips, one chaste kiss before mumbling against them. “However we like.” Slowly, as he captured your lips again, Jon felt your hands slowly follow up his chest to wrap gently around the back of his neck as he held you close at your waist.

His kiss was gentle, coaxing you to ease into things without rushing how deep he pushed you, if anything going slower then he normally would. One hand leaving your waist, he raked it tenderly through your hair before cupping the back of your head to keep your lips close against his strength over you. Your fingers slowly making their way through his curls in return.

Leaving you with little breathe left, Jon barley pulled from your lips. Almost moving in closer to you if you tried pulling back for air, making your hands tighten in his hair that much more. Gently running his tongue along your bottom lip, did you part ways for him to slip in, brush against yours as something like a moan tried getting pushed down in your chest.

Guiding you to move along with him, you started to relax in his touch. Just what he wanted, make you nice and calm for anything else. None of this would be good if you were tense, and Jon lived for the high pitch sounds you would gasp into his mouth. Deepening and licking into your mouth Jon let the hand on your waist move, grasping the light shall still partially around you, pulling it to the side and letting it drop to the ground.

Grinning into the kiss at your slight shiver in the cold air of his room, you wrapped your arms around him even more to seek his natural warmth. Once more now both his hands moving to slide along your waist down to your hips, running flat up and down at the soft material without ever committing to grasping it.

Just as your hands tightened again, it almost was enough to pull at his curls, causing a sound akin to a growl to leave Jon. Pulling from your lips, he kissed down to your jaw and along your neck. His cock stired at both that feeling and the high pitched gasp you were barley able to hide leaving you. His teeth scraping against the skin without breaking it, as his greed grew stronger.

Moving down and down your neck he reached your collarbones before he looked up, standing back at full height to tilt your head up to him while the other hand traced along just the very side of your breasts. “We can keep most of it on if you want, but I'd like to see you. All of you.” Swallowing nervously, he kissed you once before running his nose along yours. “It's up to you, we're not doing anything you don't want.”

Your hands dropped to his shoulders, digging into the leather as you thought for a moment before letting a bit of bravery through. “Could we..” Glancing down at him, Jon kissed you once more.

“I'll take some of it off, but I want you to do the rest of it, when you're ready.” Nodding a bit more eagerly, Jon stepped back. Pulling off his tunic, outer layers until just the soft material was left, easy to take off when you wanted to. As he took a step forward once more, his hands ran up your arms and to your shoulders. Toying with the fabric with a question in his eye, waiting for you to nod.

Ever so slowly, he started to run them down to your front. Waiting for one more nod when he stopped at the clasps of your dress before undoing them. Letting each go slow, your breathing increased despite trying to hide it. As it fell open, the dark shift sat underneath short on your legs. Restraining himself despite the way he inhaled deeply through his nose. He had seen parts of you, not all of you, not like you were about to let him.

Finally, he pushed the rest of the dress off as it landed on the ground by your feet. Both your gazes looking down, Jon smiled once more. “Sit for me,” Your eyebrow raised but he gave a playful shove to make you move back.

Innocent as he took your boots off, hand sliding up from your ankle to your calf as he looked up at you with bright eyes. He didn't move any further from there, just massaging the muscle almost until he felt you relaxing again and then guiding you to stand, now a bit shorter against him. Rasping lowly, “Can we take the rest of this off you now, or do you want to wait?”

Your face twisted in thought for a moment, before much more confidently shaking your head. Hands no longer tense on him, and a trust shining in your eyes as you leaned up to kiss him. Your touch now running across his facial hair at his jaw until Jon nibbled at your lips again to pull away. That time, there was no hesitation as he pulled the thin straps of your shift down your shoulders before pushing the material enough it fell off you entirely.

Eyes growing more needing and black as he looked down at you, Jon told himself to wait. One last thing, stepping forward he grasped your underwear with a hand on each side grasping as he kissed you a little bit rougher, a little more greedy as he just pulled them right down your legs. Grabbing your hips to prompt you to step out of them before Jon blindly kicked at everything by your feet.

Instead though, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his front as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Letting him deepen and bite at your lips while his other hand felt along your bare waist and hip. Other then the crackle of the fire, all that could be heard was how desperately he kissed you. Taking every sound you gifted him before tearing himself away from your lips, hands at your hips as you both gasped for air did he finally look you over.

There was no denying how unbelievably hard he was. Jon thought to himself, he was a fool for ever thinking you'd look like anything but exactly this. You were perfect to him, soft and plush in all the most unbearable ways that made his blood run hot. He was so glad he hadn't seen you like this before, he might not have been so noble about keeping you innocent if he knew you looked like that under those beautiful dresses.

Not a thing about the lustful awe Jon's eyes gazed over you was honorable. Part of him wanted to pick you up and throw you onto his bed then and there, but he knew you felt self conscious at how long he'd been so silent for. Finding your eyes, his own lips a bit parted as he struggled to find a more innocent compliment, instead he chose to pull your chin up, and press his lips back to yours for something much more slow and deep. “You...you are..”

Still struggling to find words, Jon did better with action. But you tried filling in the blanks with nothing even close to how worked up he was feeling. “Am- is it alright?” Brows narrowing he looked at you a bit confused and you shrugged. Your hands sat uselessly at at his shoulders. “I know it's..other girls are more impressive then this..especially when I'm, you know..standing here having to compare to you.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into his front a little more, hands addicted to running along your bare frame. “And what's that supposed to mean exactly?”

Drifting down to his chest and down along his stomach, your fingertips pressed into the defined muscle there with a mumble. “I mean, I have eyes Jon. You're all muscle and I'm...not...”

Eyes finding yours, he barley managed to rasp out, “Your softness is everything I dream about, I promise.” Before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a firmer kiss. That time his restraint snapped just a bit as he finally crowded you enough before pressed you against the furs of his bed. Hands guiding you to the middle as he climbed over you as he ran his tongue along yours with nowhere now for you to go but to be at his kiss's mercy.

You moaned deeply against him, causing Jon to pull up and off you, kneeling in between your slightly spread legs for him. He wanted to control himself, but gods be good you made it so difficult. Hands grasping at your thighs as he almost closed his eyes to will his heart to calm down but you knew where his eyes black now, were staring.

Everything Jon found got better and better, and as he could see what you willingly let him look at between your legs, his cock ached. He had wanted to know what being inside you felt like for so long, he dreamt about it on his worst nights. But here, able to see too the wetness, where he'd so easily be able to slide inside you, he inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. He wanted to take care of you, not rough you up because of his own cock.

One step at a time. Looking back, he focused on your face. Nervous but desperate to hide it. Slowly he took your hands into his, putting them right at the edge of his shirt. “Just start with this.” But even though your hands curled against the fabric, you looked down to them but didn't move. Your own heart raced enough you felt a bit dizzy.

Murmuring your name, you shook your head as if you'd push forward and do it. Reaching over, he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer to press a kiss to your forehead as you whispered with a very quiet but honest vulnerability, “Could we both...”

He'd never seen you so nervous and uncomposed before. Covering your hands with his, only then had Jon noticed they were almost shaking. Steady under his warm touch, he never left your eyes as he helped you pull the fabric of his shirt up and off him. On tossing it nowhere to care as he cupped the back of your neck.

Both of you leaned in that time, and somehow as soon as your hands ran along his bare chest did Jon feel that rush of need. Pushing you down against the furs on his bed, his kiss grew demanding and greedy as you responded eagerly. One thing, only one thing was keeping you from him.

And yet, the second his covered cock ground into your bare, wet core, he felt that feeling. Kissing you rougher he tried to shove it down. Not now. Jon willed himself to not do this, he said he wasn't going to worry about this right now. The more he rutted into you, the more he bit and licked into your mouth and the more sounds you made, the more Jons cock twitched begging to be freed.

But the more he felt that, the more those thoughts returned. His own hands currently groping at your breasts, twisting and pulling at the small buds as he loved and yet his mind wouldn't stop. As soon as the thought hit him, Jon tensed in his whole body.

What if he got you pregnant?

Brows furrowed into the kiss, he tried to ignore it but his mind repeated it and repeated it, and suddenly he had stopped kissing you. Your hand gently pushing against his chest to look up at him, his name so gentle on your lips with worry. “Jon? Are you alright?” He swallowed and tried to regain his breathe, but the thought spoke again.

What if he got you pregnant?

Your hand cupped his cheek as you tried to sit up a bit. “Do you want to stop?”

No, he wanted this so badly. He had planned this for almost a month, he wanted to be ready. He had to be, you were leaving for Kings Landing soon. He never had wanted anything more then sharing himself with you, sharing both of your first times together. So he shook his head, leaning back into your sweet tasting lips, “No. No, I don't want to stop.” Pushing you back into the fur he was a little less desperate this time.

Get over it, he told himself. Just shut up and get over it.

Your body was so soft and so perfect, you fit against him like you had been made for him. Your lips were so sweet, your sounds so beautiful but then he'd think more. Everyone would hate him. They'd know it was Jon, who else would it be? A beautiful little black haired baby with your eyes but they'd all call your child a Snow and it would be his fault.

Jon wanted to share this with you, he always had. Jon wanted to bed you so badly and yet as he had you bare under him, he struggled to see past how much he'd be ruining your life. Ruining his own child's life. He could be cocky and say it's a rare chance just this once could get you pregnant, but he had no reason to think it wouldn't.

You'd return to Kings Landing and be shamed as soon as everyone found out. They'd call your child a Snow and Jon couldn't handle that. He never wanted that for whatever child he had.

Being a bastard was lonely and miserable, the only reason he could stand it was because of you, but he would be horrible and selfish to force his child to live that way all because Jon was in love with you.

Just maybe, as Jon's hand trailed up your thigh enough he could feel the heat between your legs, it was a blessing in disguise when you pulled from his lips almost in a jolting panic. Stammering with wide eyes when Jon sat up, you clearly started to panic. “I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..”

Brows furrowing, Jon gently ran hands along your hair at the back of your head cupping you gently to stay in place. “Don't be sorry, it's alright.” You shook your head trying to deny that, but Jon leaned in more gentle in his gaze and softness. “Look at me,” Finding his gaze, he could see the slight bit of nerves tinged with the fear of the unknown. “We don't have to to this. We can stop right here.”

You looked away frustrated, no doubt at yourself. “I'm sorry..” Jon went to tell you again to stop apologizing but you continued, clearly trying not to let your eyes water at how much was running through your head. “It's not you or anything..I...” Sighing out you looked back up at him, Jon letting his thumb run along your cheek. “I don't know if I'm ready..for..this part..”

He didn't say it, but in truth, Jon was relived. He couldn't do this with you, when all he was worried about was ruining everything your life could be by getting you pregnant. You and what children you had shouldn't start here, with a bastard. No matter how in love with you he was, how much he always will be.

Murmuring your name, he leaned in no run his nose along yours. “Do you want to know something?” You nodded, as your hands gently ran through his curls almost soothingly. “I don't think I'm ready either.”

It was strange to laugh at that, but you did, and so did Jon. Laughing gently into the other before he pulled you in for a much more innocent, but eager kiss. “We are a mess, aren't we?” Jon laughed a lot more freely at that, his heart growing in his chest at the giggle on your own lips before he captured the sound with a kiss. Running a hand again along your hair, you moved yours at the same time to shift the both of you.

After a little moving, Jon had you laying mostly on your side as he did facing you, his hand running now freely but without greedy intention along your bare side. Your own hands sat at his chest and collarbones, sharing just an innocent kiss for the way you both looked. Your voice was quiet, but a lot less nervous as the minutes passed between you. “You don't have to, but I was wondering..I want to wait for you..and was hoping maybe you would wait for me too?”

Jon just grinned. “I'm not here to rush you, darling. I'll always wait for you.”

You'd both have to get up eventually, but for now, Jon pulled you into his chest. Keeping your bare frame tucked into his warmth. If only for a little while, you both could spare a nap at least. Wrapped up in the others touch and safety.

As Jon kept your head tucked into his chest, he buried his face happily in your hair. Thinking to himself, that he's never wanted anything as much as he wants to just be with you.

He would take all the time in the world to wait until you both were ready, there wasn't and couldn't be a single soul in the world Jon would ever want to give himself too other then you. You were the woman he loved, you were his heart, something that made his lonely, miserable life worth it. Jon was utterly in love with you, and as long as you both had that together?

The rest would come easy, in time.

[deus-sema]

The Battle Of The Five Armies (deleted scene):

Somewhere behind the walls of Dol Guldur -

Sauron: There she is. That's my girl. Do you see that Nazgûl #4?? She is wearing white!! She was wearing that the day we first met, you know.

Nazgûl #4: My Lord, actually we.....

Sauron: And she is wearing the ring I made her!!! It looks so good on her. I can't believe I ever wanted it back. It's always meant to be on her finger.

Nazgûl #7: Master, she blasted our guy away.

Sauron: I know right?! She is so cool.

Nazgûl #7: That was our guy...shouldn't we help him and stop her?

Sauron: And??? She looked good doing it. Melkor forbid a girl have hobbies.

Galadriel: I have come for M_________

Sauron: Did you hear that?! She said she's come for someone whose name starts with M. M is for Mairon. She has come for me!!

Nazgûl #6: I'm pretty sure I heard 'Mithrandir' which means the old man-

Nazgûl #2: Pssst. He didn't hear anything beyond the M.

Sauron: LA LA LA LA LA. How do I look? How is my hair? She likes it scruffy. But I've put on the crown especially for the occasion. Galadriel it's me -

Sauron: Wait a second. Why is she bridal carrying him? Him??? She never carried me like that even once.

Witch King: Noticed that real quick, didn't you?

Sauron: I hate everything and everyone. There is no such thing as love. Great. She is leaving with him now.

Nazgûl #7: It's alright, Master. It will get better with some ice cream. I'll recommend Rocky Road -

Sauron: Why tf are you idiots still standing here?! Go get them!

Galadriel: How much did you have to drink today?

Sauron: Me and drunk?! Pfttt. Did you think I was busy drowning myself in alcohol when you weren't returning my calls and blocked my numbers? I had far more important tasks......WAIT A SECOND. WHAT IS HIS HEAD DOING ON YOUR LAP? Get a job, Olórin. Get away from her right now

Sauron: I HAD a job. I had a great job in Numenor. You pulled me back to Middle Earth. You told me you felt it too. You told me to bind myself to you!! Do you hear that Bro Code Breaking Maia?? She told me to bind myself to her. Not you. Take that. WAIT A SEC -

Sauron: Are you both going to pretend I'm not here??? I am listening, you know.

Nazgûl #9: Is he always like that?

Witch King (sighs) : You'll get used to it.

[thescrapwitch]

Bilbo is sitting on a bench in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the quiet peace of Elrond’s garden, when he sees her: a tall, dark skinned woman with curly black hair and a warm smile. The fact that someone who looks neither elf nor Maiar is in Valinor startles him. Makes him sit up straighter, drop the book he was reading to the ground. All in black, wearing a dress not unlike a Gondorian noble with a peculiar pendant dangling from her neck, she makes for a strange sight. But her smile is so kind, so gentle, and it makes him smile back.

Bilbo debates, briefly, about getting up to shake her hand, but his legs have been very weak the past few days. He does not want to rise only to crash face-first into the dirt by her feet. That would be rude. So he stays sitting on the bench and gives her a friendly nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo Baggins,” she says. Bilbo is not surprised that she knows his name. As he is one of the three hobbits in the blessed lands, it would be more strange if she didn’t. But she says it with such familiarity that it makes him frown.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he says, “but have we met before?” He knows her. Bilbo knows he knows her, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Like he sent her an invitation long ago and, now that she’s come as promised, completely forgot about their plans. “Were you a guest at one of my birthday parties?”

She laughs. “No. I don’t normally get invited to those. But I heard your eleventy-first one was quite the event! ”

A shame. She seems like she would have been a wonderful guest. “Could you tell me where we met, then? I know we must have met somewhere, but my brain is not as nimble as it once was, and the memory is escaping me.”

“It was less a formal meeting,” she says, “and more like having crossed paths many times.” Her eyes, which do not carry light the same way an elf’s would, are very, very dark. “I watched as you avoided becoming troll food, as you stumbled in the dark and traded riddles with Gollum, as you crept into Smog’s lair and fumbled as the Battle of the Five Armies tore at each other. But you escaped all of that unharmed, and so we never had a chance to be properly introduced. Until now.”

The answer hits him then, the knowledge rising up from his heart. Oh. Of course he knows her. He’s always known her. It was just easy to forget these past years in Valinor. “Death.”

“Yes.”

“Is it time then?” Bilbo feels, suddenly, very self-conscious. He’s wearing his second-best waistcoat today and wishes he’d worn his first-best one instead. He would have, certainly, if he knew such an important guest was coming to visit him. “I am dying?”

“You are dead,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. Death does not appear to be in any hurry, no grabbing or pulling him along to wherever mortal souls go. Instead, she tips her head back to bask in the sunshine. “Mind if I rest my feet? I don’t normally have to travel this far for work, you know. Still, a change of scenery is always nice. Have they been good to you, these immortals?”

“Yes,” he says, because they have. Elrond and dear Gandalf and all the other friends he’s made in this land. He will miss them all, and hopes they will not be too upset to find him gone. He hopes that they will take care of Frodo and Sam, and that they will not waste a long time grieving. Then, because he cannot help but be curious, even at the end, he says, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” she says. “Take your time. The dying part is already over with. You don’t have to go on until you’re ready.”

She really is so very polite. A shame Bilbo never had the chance to invite her over for tea. He is certain that Death would have had lovely stories to share and impeccable manners. “From what the elves have told me, the Vala Mandos is in charge of death. How is it that you are here for me and not him?”

“Mandos manages death for the elves,” she corrects, not at all upset with the question, “and Aulë the dwarves. But mortals, humans and hobbits, you come with me to receive my gift.”

“You’re a much different god than him.”

“Oh, don’t call me a god.” Death gives him a grin, a flash of bright humor. “That’s too fancy a title. I’m less a divine being and more…more someone with an endless task to do. That’s all.”

“My nephew, Frodo, and his Sam, will you come for them too?”

“Someday,” she promises. “But not yet.”

“Good.” Not that he wants Frodo or Sam to die, but all mortal things must, and he’d rather they had a friendly face for such a journey. Let this one be much kinder to them than the road to Mordor was.

They sit in silence for a moment longer. Bilbo takes one last look at the garden, at the bluebells and primroses that Celebrian planted, at the robins searching for worms, at the book which has fallen from his hands and landed half-open on the ground.

It was a good life, he thinks, and a long one. But all stories have to come to an end eventually, and this will be as best an ending as I could ever have hoped to earn. He stands up, straightens his waistcoat, and looks Death in the eye. “All right. I’m ready.”

Death stands up as well. There is a softness in the way she looks at him that erases any fear or dread Bilbo expected to have when his time was up. It feels more as though he is going on a long walk with a dear friend.

“What is it like, this place of endings beyond the circles of the world? Is it…nice?”

“You will see when you get there,” she says, and holds out her hand. “Think of it as one last adventure.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” says Bilbo. He takes Death’s hand. “Well then, lead the way.”

[starogeorgina]

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Warnings: Violence

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.15

When you enter the dimly lit throne room, you see your mother sitting on the throne. It’s not until you get closer to her that you realize what she’s holding onto so tightly—a toy that was one of Lucery's favorites, which he gave to Gaemon to play with when he was older.

“Mother?”

Meeting your gaze, she stands tall; her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. She places the toys on the throne, then twists the rings in her fingers. “I am the queen of the seven kingdoms,” she says to herself more than you. “I suppose that will be the last time I ever sit upon this throne, as you are the new princess of Dragonstone.”

“And Jacaerys, its prince.”

Your mother's gaze is full of adoration as she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It belongs to both of you, sweet girl. Not only is Jacaerys the realm's future king, but you're its queen.”

“Not for some time,” you squeeze her hand. “We have much to learn from you and Daemon. You have a long reign ahead of my queen.”

“I’m Vaoreznuni,” she whispers. “I should never have allowed you to be married to Aegon.”

“Don’t—”

“We don’t know what the gods hold in store for us in the future; I need to say this in case I don’t get the chance to.”

Your lower lip trembles at the thought of losing her.

“Once upon a time, me and Alicent were good friends, and I was foolish to think a marriage between our children would help mend the bridges and solidify an alliance between two halves of the same family. But if I had known how cruelly they would have treated you, I would never have allowed it.”

“Aegon is your half brother; you had no reason to suspect he would have turned into the person he is.”

“It was foolish for me to think Alicent wouldn’t pour honey into my siblings' ears. It should have always been Jacaerys.” In the moonlight, her fallen tears glisten. “I ask for your forgiveness, daughter, for subjecting you to years of torment at the hands of the greens.”

“No, I will not give you forgiveness, mother, because you do require it. None of the things that were done to me were in your hands; the only people who need to pay are the usurper and the dowager queen.”

“And pay they shall, sweet girl.”

—

“Soon as the war is over, we can bring our children home.” Jacaerys fingers tremble as he braids your hair in preparation for battle. One of your ladies could have done it but he insisted. It had taken Jace a couple of attempts to make sure your hair was tight enough that it wouldn’t fall out, but he had now gotten the hang of it. Nervously, he says, “Perhaps our daughters will let me braid their hair.”

It hurts to be away from your sweet babies.

“We will see them soon,” you reassure him. “The green army thinks of me as nothing other than a silly girl; they will fall right into our trap.”

Jace presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder and says, “They couldn’t be more wrong. One day they will sing songs of your beauty and bravery.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze and smile. “Careful husband, any more compliments, and we may end up creating a sixth child instead of defeating our enemies.”

“Daemon will be our last babe for some time; I will not allow you to become sick again by falling pregnant again so soon.”

You toy with the ring on your fingers. Your new quarters had no trace of Targaryen or Velaryon heritage yet, and no evidence of your five children. “I wonder how big he has grown. I’ve written to Clara to ask how she and the children are, but I’ve not heard back yet.”

“She will have her hands full running around after our brood.”

Usually, you’d sing in high valyrian to your newborns, and it left a void knowing that you were missing out on such precious moments. Daemon wouldn’t even recognise the sound of your voice when you returned to Winterfell.

Jace finishes off the braid and steps back.

Seeing Jacaerys dressed for battle made your heart flutter. He looks so handsome—a warrior, a dragon rider, a true Targaryen prince. You’re so caught up in staring into his dark eyes that it takes you a moment to hear the commotion going on outside the bedchamber.

He offers you his hand and says, “We should go.”

—

Soaring above the green’s army base, Viserion screeches loudly, alerting them to the immediate danger of a dragon. You watch as the men scurry to grab hold of weapons as Viserion lowers to the ground, not too far from where the camp is based.

It doesn’t take long for Ser Criston to come galloping out of the tree line on the back of his horse, both wearing armor covered by green fabric with a golden three-headed dragon sigil.

Disgusting.

Ten knights follow closely behind, but you suspect they are deliberately staying out of your line of sight. You climb down and walk towards the knight, he seems surprised by your actions.

“Lyarra.”

“Criston.”

Viserion roars loudly, causing some of the knights to hesitantly raise their swords. The bite of steel is sharp against your arm, and a trickle of blood spills from where the sword has nipped your skin. “Why my arm and not my throat, kingmaker?”

Criston narrows his eyes. “The king has ordered for you to be kept alive and your face to remain unmarked.”

“Hmm.”

“You were a fool to come alone.”

In the blink of an eye, the smell of smoke fills the air, and the ground vibrates as a large part of the Green’s Army retreats on horseback. Criston lowers his swords and spins around, watching the men he was leading abandon him. Among the smoke and ash, Vermax appears, his olive scales and pale orange wing membranes darkened with soot.

“I’m no fool, Ser Criston, and not alone.” The two dragons roar and breathe fire at the same time, burning the tents and supplies of the green army. “I once said if you ever touched me again, I’d feed you to Viserion.”

Criston turns and gives you a murderous glare.

“But I’ve since changed my mind. I wouldn’t feed something so poisonous to my beloved dragon.”

You back away as a shadow begins to overtake the spot where you just stood as the ill-tempered dragon looms closer. Jacaerys holds his head high. “Dracarys, Vermax.”

The kingmaker is engulfed in flames.

Screams fill the air of men trying to flee and put as much distance between themselves and the dragons as possible.

Viserion lowers himself so you can mount him, and when he stands tall again, you are able to fully view Jacaerys. He had been struck with three arrows; his armor had protected him from two, but one of them had struck him in the thigh.

He attempts to soothe your fear. “I am fine, dear wife; now let’s go join our mother in taking the king's landing back.”

Prince Daemon and your mother had flown over the capital and were circling above Aegon’s high hill. Syrax would only land when it was safe to do so. Your grandsire’s fleet would be arriving at the east end of Blackwater Bay. While the dragon twins held fort at Dragonstone, where your youngest siblings remain, Lady Baela would keep watch of the island on the back of Moondancer, while Lady Rhaena would run the council inside.

Vermax and Viserion take to the sky, breathing fire as they fly in the direction of the red keep.

Sorry — Vaoreznuni

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (34)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: violence, swearing, mention of injuries ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

After their night together, after they were reunited, after he had laid himself completely bare before her, he felt relieved, calm and overjoyed. His wife had seen him as he was, his disgusting empty eye socket, evidence of his disability, and then fucked him as she had never done before.

He thought fondly, looking at her after waking, stroking her hair with his thumb, that they were one.

What had formed between them was an unbreakable bond.

Nothing could destroy what they had.

They were blessed by the gods themselves.

He decided not to wake her and summoned his servant to help him change his clothes.

He felt like a newborn.

It was the first time in his life that he felt so connected to anyone. He had thought that such a bond would be his weakness, but now he felt the powerful strength that he drew from her support and tenderness.

She was restoring his equilibrium when the whole world around him was crumbling before his eyes.

He couldn't stop wondering why Daemon hadn't attacked them again − after his first charge they were defenceless, and while he and Vhagar were a threat to him, apart from him, his army was virtually non-existent.

He, however, had begun to gather forces in the Vale, apparently preparing for battle − he feared that other dragons would join the war. He sent a letter to Dareon, wanting him to join him and return from the Citadel, but he knew it would take time.

He had to manage on his own for now.

He had grown to recognise the immense talent and military intuition of his wife's father and her brother. Although very direct and often downright coarse in their words, they were usually right to coordinate all preparations diligently, reckoning with his opinion and words.

He knew that her father would never forgive him for what had happened to his daughter, yet he was able to move on his uncle with all his forces after what he had done to her.

Their relationship had been an amicable one; the four of them, along with Ser Criston, had found a common, stodgy language full of specifics that kept things moving forward, and they could count on putting up real resistance if anything happened.

As Jason Lannister rode into their camp on horseback strutting proudly, he thought it was one of the most pathetic sights he had ever seen in his life. To his amusement, his wife's father said aloud what he himself had thought.

"He rides in here like a hero, a dull golden cunt."

He and Criston smiled mischievously at his words, and Royce laughed out loud.

He figured that he and they weren't as different as they would like to think.

In their company, he understood more and more the complex nature of his wife.

Being around such men she must have shown a golden patience.

Jason Lannister honoured them with the King's orders and his ideas on how to resolve the matter.

He felt that they had made a mistake and should attack first.

"We have the biggest dragon in the world, what are we waiting for? For them to come after us?" He asked haughtily, as if he had suddenly discovered some solemn truth. Borros snorted impatiently at his words.

"Yes. If you had looked at the maps, my Lord, you would know that the Vale is a mountainous area and almost impossible to conquer. We have a better chance fighting here, in the lowlands." He said lowly, looking at him impatiently.

They all turned their gazes away when they heard someone enter the tent. He felt his heart stop as he saw his wife dressed in a rich reddish-brown gown, her hair braided into an elaborate headdress.

He thought that she looked just as she had in King's Landing and felt his manhood pulsate hard at the sight.

She was dressed in such a way that her burns were not visible.

She looked as if nothing had happened to her.

He pressed his lips together as Royce came right up to her, gripping her cheeks in his hands, kissing her forehead − he felt impatience and frustration at the sight, but recognised that her brother was supposed to love her and show it to her as much as he did. He had shown him how much he cared for her while she was still asleep.

He and her father had gone to war for her.

Not for him.

"I came to find out what our situation is." She said finally, her brother and father looking at her approvingly. Lord Lannister stirred, wrinkling his brow and grunted quietly.

"Forgive me, my Lady, we are all glad that you are feeling better, however, we are discussing serious matters here that should not concern a woman." He said impatiently, feigning light-heartedness and looked around himself, amused, seeking support from his commanders, who nodded.

He pressed his lips together, furious, wanting to say something on the matter, but her father forestalled him.

"You are a child of summer, Lord Lannister, and unlike my daughter, you know shit about war. Come, hand me the map that lies there." He nodded at his daughter, and she lowered her gaze meekly, smiling gratefully, and brought her father the map he had asked for, standing beside him.

A discussion began about the further plan and support from the Iron Islands − the Greyjoys were an unpredictable family, looking only after their own interests, not eager to cooperate with anyone. His grandfather had forced the Lannisters to put up some gold and make them a generous offer in return for the support of their fleet, but they procrastinated, shrewdly watching how the balance of power would unfold.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a servant who entered the tent, all panting, looking pale at them.

"My Prince, my Lords, my Lady. A messenger from the Eyrie has arrived. Prince Daemon wishes to meet with Prince Aemond and his wife."

He looked at her in horror and saw that she too had turned her gaze towards him, pale − for a moment there was complete silence in the tent. He felt his heart pounding hard.

Daemon wanted to meet him and his wife.

Why?

Was this a trap?

"We shouldn't speak with the enemy. I'm sure he has a plan because he knows that without both of you, everything will fall apart." Lord Borros said, as surprised as they were. He couldn't disagree with him, he also felt it was suspicious.

"I would like to speak with him." Said his wife, looking at him intensely, folding her hands over her stomach. "If you will only consent to it, my husband."

He parted his lips slightly in complete shock, looking at her, completely torn.

She knew his uncle had done it to her.

For some reason he wanted to see them both.

He looked at the servant.

"Where does my uncle want to meet?" He asked lowly. The servant grunted quietly.

"By the Red Tributary of the Trident." He said uncertainly. He looked at his wife and nodded.

"So be it."

They both walked out of the tent, followed by Lord Baratheon and his son.

"What if it's a trap? If they inprison you, if they take you hostage?" He asked impatiently.

"We will fly on Vhagar. If we only see that something is wrong, we will turn back immediately." He said and nodded at his wife to follow him.

He was excited to discover that she had never before accompanied him on a dragon's back − there had been no opportunity to do so before, but now he was too nervous to really enjoy it.

His wife changed into an attire more suitable for such a journey and joined him, walking up the valley to the hill.

"Why do you want to meet him?" He asked lowly, not looking at her. His wife was quiet for a moment.

"I want to find out if he knew that I was in Harrenhal at the time." She replied calmly, and he felt a squeeze in his heart.

When they reached the destination she stopped, looking in horror at the great body of the beast that just lay before her, plunged into a deep sleep. He held out his hand to her, and she approached him uncertainly.

They moved together towards her, Vhagar's eyes opened lazily sensing his scent. She raised her large head slowly, noticing and sensing the other, a complete stranger.

"− Lykiri, Vhagar. Lykiri −" He called out low and she stopped, her great nostrils moving restlessly. He felt his wife's hand tighten on his in obvious fear − after what she had experienced, dragons and their fire must have terrified her even more.

He intertwined their fingers at that thought.

He helped her climb up and sat her in the saddle in front of him, wanting to have a view of everything and control what was happening to her at the same time.

He felt the closeness of her body, her buttocks pressing against his manhood from behind, making him hard even in such a moment and place.

She felt it, as terrified as he was, and turned her face towards him. He pressed his nose to her soft cheek, inhaling her scent − he thought that if they survived this and managed to return, he would fuck her all night.

"− Soves, Vhagar! −" He shouted low and his dragoness stood up, rising slowly, her movements lifting up clouds of dust and sand, making the whole ground tremble beneath them. He heard a quiet squeal of wife, who huddled tighter into the fabric of the saddle in front of her, terrified.

She whinnied loudly, startled, as Vhagar took to the air − he laughed low, amused, for some reason happy that she was accompanying him on this wonderful and frightening sensation of flying through the skies.

He embraced her tightly from behind, pressing his cheek against hers, their hair and clothes disheveled by the intense wind and speed.

When they arrived at their destination he made a few laps to see if there were any hidden troops by the river, but there were no trees around, only a plain − apart from a small canopy, he could not see anyone or anything.

He felt his heart stop when he saw that on a small hill nearby that two dragons, not one, were raising their heads, concerned.

Caraxes and Syrax.

Rhaenyra.

He wondered whether to return or land − he didn't understand what was happening or what it meant.

However, he thought that if they wanted to meet, so be it.

Vhagar landed on the other side, away from the makeshift canopy with a firm thump, from which his wife squealed again.

He helped her down, gripping her in his arms as she slid down. He looked at her, her face all pale, her hair dishevelled.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked and she nodded. He pressed his lips together and hummed, walking ahead, his wife moving hurriedly behind him.

From a distance he spotted two guards, and beside them two white-haired silhouettes − his half-sister stepped out to meet them, her black attire and hair blown by the wind, the sound of the river all around them.

She stood in front of them, folding her hands in front of her, a few paces behind her stood Daemon, looking intently at his wife.

He thought he could kill him now, feeling his anger rise anew.

His half-sister's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Aemond, my Lady, thank you for accepting our invitation." She began, her voice uncertain and soft.

He wondered what she was up to, where her sudden willingness to converse had come from.

Neither he nor his wife answered her, looking at her expectantly. Rhaenyra looked at her, pressing her lips together as if considering what she wanted to say.

"My Lady, may I leave you in the company of my husband for a moment?" She asked with a kind of sympathy and compassion in her eyes that made him uneasy.

He did not trust her, and her proposal aroused his anger.

"He almost burned her alive. My wife will stay with me." He said furiously and flinched when he felt his wife's hand on his shoulder.

"No. I'd like to speak with your uncle." She said calmly.

He looked at her with a mixture of horror and awe, not believing what he was hearing.

Daemon nodded. She approached him slowly and together they moved away towards the shore, walking a short distance apart. He watched them anxiously, all tense, feeling his heart pounding hard. His half-sister saw this and walked closer to him, her smile in her mind meant to be comforting for sure.

"I want you to know that my husband was not aware that your wife was in Harrenhal at the time. I hope her injuries are not extensive. I was greatly relieved when I found out that she survived." She said, pressing her lips together, looking him straight in the eye.

He didn't know whether he should laugh or spit in her face.

Fucking whore.

"You brought me and my wife here to tell me this?" He asked, his smile wide, mad, malicious.

He thought that he could strangle her with his own hands now, ending the entire war.

His sister lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers.

"I realised that with her death there would be no turning back from what might happen." She said finally, looking up at him, her voice trembling slightly. "I lost my daughter, irrevocably, forever. She has also lost something, and her harm cannot be repaired."

He stared at her impassively, feeling a tightness in his throat, his heart pounding like mad.

What was she up to? What did she expect from him?

"I realised that you never heard my apology for what happened to you after Laena's funeral." She said, her eyebrows arched as if in pain. He clenched his jaw at her words, all tense, feeling a shudder at the mere mention.

The pain of an eye being pulled out of his skull.

He smiled under his breath.

"Those are cruel accusations and slander. Isn't that what you called what I said, demanding justice? Comforting your sons? Demanding that I be questioned thoroughly about where I heard these rumors?" He hissed, looking at her intensely, feeling his consciousness collapse under the weight of his own memories, pulling him back to his feelings of those moments, his rage and desire for revenge.

Atonement.

He saw her swallow loudly, turning her face to the side, her hair and cloak blown by the wind.

There was sadness painted in her eyes.

He thought that she was just putting on a wonderful show of sisterly love for him, which made him want to laugh.

"When you were just two years old, I read you stories about Aegon the Conqueror. It was a big, richly illustrated book, full of figures of dragons and kings, colourful and ornate. You squealed that you wanted to read this one and not another, so we read the same one every night." She said thoughtfully, low, impassively, not looking at him but away, deep in her memories. He furrowed his brow at her words.

It was not she who had read him the stories, but his mother.

He remembered sitting on her lap, her warm arms embracing him, her cheek next to his face, her finger showing him in the illustrations which characters they had just read about.

"A touching story indeed. Only my mother read to me." He said frustrated that she was trying to arouse a melancholy or pity in him, turning his face away.

He watched carefully the silhouettes of his uncle and his wife − he saw that they were standing by the shore and conversing intensely about something. He saw his wife untie her leather tunic and furrowed his eyebrows, all tense.

"I did not know your mother could read in the language of Old Valyria." Rheanyra said, looking at him with anguish in her eyes that was painted on her face, and he felt his heart stop.

He replayed in his memories again and again himself on the woman's lap, the great book on her knees written down with letters that he could not yet read at the time.

She spoke in the common language, but he knew now that the sentences she was reading were not written in it − she was translating them on the fly.

This was not his mother.

Rhaenyra must have noticed his hesitation and bewilderment, for she smiled painfully warmly, and he felt a tightness in his throat.

"Your grandfather caught me doing this one evening and forbade your mother's servants to let me into your and your siblings' chambers." She said with a kind of pain and regret from which he felt uncomfortable, a strange pain in his chest.

It didn't change anything, he repeated to himself.

"You read me some stories as a child so I should forgive you? Betray my brother and mother?" He asked impatiently and she furrowed her brow.

"I am your sister too, don't you owe me allegiance as well?" She asked and waved her hand impatiently.

"No." He hissed, clenching his hands into fists behind his back. "I don't owe you anything."

His sister looked at him in pain, searching in his face for any hope that she could change his mind, stop the bloodshed and tragedies that were about to happen.

"Do you believe he will be a good king?" She asked mockingly, and he pressed his lips together.

He thought it didn't matter.

He didn't answer.

She chuckled lowly, tears in her eyes. She shook her head, tightening her lips.

"I don't want to spill my own family's blood." She said finally, and he laughed at her words.

"Then pay my brother homage and return to your Dragonstone with your husband and black-haired sons." He said mockingly, and she pressed her lips together in pain. She stepped closer to him, so that their faces were almost touching, poking her finger into her chest.

"This is my inheritance! I am the rightful heir to the throne! Your brother will rape and drink and your viper grandfather will rule in his name!" She shouted in his face, and he smiled at her words.

"That's no longer your concern." He said, and she lowered her hand, looking at him tiredly.

"Support me and I will give you Dragonstone for life. Your and your wife's children will inherit it. I will condemn Aegon to exile, your mother, our sister and her children will live with you in your fortress. The war will end." She said lowly, looking at him expectantly. He pressed his lips together, looking at her thoughtfully.

Specifics at last.

"And what would you do with my grandfather?" He asked indifferently, and she raised an eyebrow, surprised that he didn't reject her offer outright. She swallowed quietly, lowering her gaze.

"He must die." She said finally.

He could have ended it, turned around and gone back to his camp.

He could.

But he was curious about how desperate she was.

"Who would sit on the throne after your death?" He asked further, saw her cheeks redden, her chin lifted high, as if to show him she was proud of her bastard son.

"Jace is my firstborn son and he is the heir to the throne." She said haughtily, feigning calm. He felt wonderful to play with her like that, giving her hope that he had considered her proposal.

He came up with an idea and smirked broadly.

"Make any of your sons with Daemon heir to the throne, and I will consider your proposal." He said lightly.

She looked at him shocked, swallowing loudly, looking at him in disbelief. She wanted to say something, but he stepped back and called out to his wife. He turned and looked at his half-sister, who was completely torn internally.

"Consider it well." He hissed, turning tense towards Vhagar, glancing at his wife, who ran towards him.

He was filled with wild satisfaction at the thought of what he had done.

He had planted a doubt in her mind.

He smiled under his breath, pleased with himself as never before.

If he took away Jace's right to the throne, the Blacks will kill each other by themselves.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata @menaosama @ladywin17 @queenofshinigamis @rae-seri

[smolvenger]

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

 The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

 You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

 As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.  

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.  

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.  

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

 You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.  

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

 He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle.  Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else.  But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.  

 You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited.  A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

 The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

 After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you.  It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you.  Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it.  You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

 He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers.  How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

 He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

 He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

 Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

 He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days.  You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices.  You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace.  Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs.  The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding.  Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people.  Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

 Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself.   He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can.  Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate.  The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

[nightfall-writer]

I have time

Thranduil x Reader 

Word Count: 2k (Sorry)

Warnings: Canon Violence (Battle of the Five Armies war) The reader is pronounced dead. A bit sad, Thranduil cries. They are married, but Legolas is never mentioned. AU Thorin,Fili,Kili, and the elk live :D (please let me know if I forgot any)

A/N - Sorry for Thranduil x Reader again, I like the Character and couldn’t think of another one for the story to apply to. Also, I am not sure who is at fault for the gems in the movies, I’ve heard that the dwarves didn’t want to part and Thranduil didn’t want to pay the money, but I’m going with the first one! This may have to be 2 parts if you guys want a second part.

“War?” You asked Thranduil, “Yes, I want what belongs to me.” he replies. You know you cannot talk him out of it. It was supposed to be a gift to you but, they did not want to part with it. You understood where he was coming from but, thought all of this was a little overkill for gems. “I am assuming there's no talking you out of it?” You asked knowing if he sets his mind on something there's no likely chance of him not doing it. Although, you would be the person to convince him not to. “No, there isn’t” He starts, “I am rightfully claiming what is mine.” “I am coming with then” You reply. “Absolutely not, Meleth.” He says as he turns around to face you. “It should be done and over with rather quickly anyway, you should stay here.” He answered. “I am not letting you go alone, If you are doing this, I should come with you.” You replied. “I am not talking you out of this, am I?” He chuckled a bit. “No, you are not.” You grinned. Right before you two left, he checked again to see if you could stay behind. You being as stubborn as he was told him no and that you would be okay. You and you’re army arrived at the remains of Dale. You felt sympathy towards these people as they had to take refuge in the remains. You looked around as Thranduil and Bard chatted a bit. Afterward, You and Thranduil had decided for you to choose the spot for the tent. You would come to find him afterward. After He watched Bard try and reason with Thorin, he went to the tent and settled down a bit.

“Suited already?” Thranduil asked. “I do not like to be unprepared, you know this.” You replied while putting up your spared daggers. He slightly hums before grabbing a wine glass. “Mithrandir?” You questioned, “What are you doing here?”. Thranduil put his glass down and turned around. (Time skip a few minutes as I could not find the dialog of the talking) “Sometimes a storm is just a storm” Thranduil replies. “Not this time, armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters who have been bred for war. Our enemy has shown his full strength” Gandalf argues. “Why show his hand now?” Thranduil replies. “Because we forced him, We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakensheild set out to reclaim the homeland,” Gandalf says before leaving, Bard follows as you grab Thranduils arm. “What if it isn’t nothing, what if it is truly a threat?” You asked. “Wizard's warnings cannot be taken so seriously, my love.” Thranduil and You walked out to meet with Bard and Gandalf who gave you a concerning look.

“Give the order, If anything moves from that mountain, Kill it,” Thranduil says. The guard walks off to give the order to the archers. You look at Gandalf who is in complete shock at Thranduil's harsh command. Thranduil turns around, “The dwarves are out of time”. Gandalf runs out to Bard, “Do you agree to this?, this gold is so important here, would you buy it with the blood of the dwarves.” Gandalf asks. “It will not come to that, This is a fight they cannot win,” Bard replies.

“That will not stop them” Bilbo states. This causes you to peek out of the tent and look at Bilbo. “You think the dwarves will surrender, they won't, they will fight to the death to defend their own,” Bilbo states. “The burglar” you whisper only loud enough for Thranduil to hear. “Is he?” Thranduil asks, “Yes, he’s the one who got the keys from the guards when they were busy being passed out.” You reply. Bard, Gandalf, and Biblo walk into the tent as you are stationed standing right next to Thranduil's makeshift throne. “If I am not mistaken.” Thranduil starts as he sits down. “This is the halfling, who stole the keys to my dungeons under the nose of my guards.” Thranduil stares at Bilbo as he says it. “Yes, sorry about that,” Bilbo replies. You smile a bit at the hobbit. “I came to give you this” Biblo says as he lays down something in a brown-ish cloth. 

As he unwraps it, he reveals the Arkenstone and backs away. “The heart of the mountain” you gasp, “The king's jewel” Thranduil finishes as he can read your mind. “And worth a King's ransom... how is this yours to give?” Bard says as you all look at Bilbo. “I took it as my Fourteenth share of the treasure” Biblo answers. “Why would you do this?” You ask currently questioning the hobbit. “You owe us no loyalty,” Bard says as well.

“I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They're suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine.” Bilbo starts and you cannot help but smile slightly. You find that from what you’ve read hobbits tend to be loyal and Biblo clearly shows it. “But they are also brave and kind, and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can.” Bilbo finishes. “I do believe that he will give you what you want in exchange for this. There will be no need for war.”

You and the others arrive in front of Erebor. You watch as they exchange words and as his cousins arrive. None of what they said truly bothered you until you heard his cousin say “I’ll split his pretty head open” You quit smiling and death stared at him. “See if he’s still smirking then.” Dain finishes. “Let them advance, See how far they get” Thranduil replies. You load your bow as Dain runs back to his army. As they start fighting you release your bow along with the rest of the army and see the arrows get shredded. You watch them coming closer and then hear rumbling. You and Thranduil exchange looks before seeing the Wereworms coming out of the ground. You look at them horrified wondering what on earth they are doing here.

“I have a plan!” You say while fighting next to Thranduil as you both start heading towards the remains of Dale. “Is it a good plan?” He questions as he kills the orcs off of his elk. You pause for a second causing Thranduil to glance at you. “I have a plan.” You say, but before Thranduil can tell you not to. You make a noise with your horse slamming on the ground causing the orcs to look at you. They charge you and as you run around a building you lead them back out into a line causing them to be killed easily. You lose track of Thranduil and cannot find him. You see the war dying down a bit and see the dwarves heading to where the leader Azog is. You quickly follow them on your horse unaware Thranduil is looking the streets for you.

As you see Fili being caught by an orc, You take out your bow and shoot the orc. This causes the orc to drop Fili and you run with your horse around the dwarves and catch him. You put him down quickly and start trying to kill the other orcs. You get off your horse and see Bolg as he tries to run towards you. You start attacking him but he slings you across into the side of the hill. You groan in pain but start making your way up. 

Thranduil quickly made his way up the hill after hearing from a guard that he had seen your horse making its way up there. He looks around and sees the dead Azog. As he looks around more he sees Thorin, Fili, and Kili hugging. “They went that way,” Thorin says and points. Thranduil smiles and nods a bit and starts going that way looking for you. He sees your horse and leaves his elk with it. He makes it your way and hears you groan. He pulls out his sword and fast-walks towards you.

As he makes it around the corner he sees you grab the orc by its neck and spin around it. You let your foot hit the rock and push it. As you let go and land next to the orc. You breathe heavily and before Thranduil can come closer to you, the orc grabs you. The orc brings you with him as he falls. “No!” Thranduil yells before trying to grab you. “I'm sorry” is all he hears come from you before you go over the cliff edge. He runs up to the edge and looks for any signs of you. “No, no, no, please!” He starts panicking as he looks for you.

He comes down off the mountain visibly shaken, no one says anything to him as he calls what men he has left to make it home. Gandalf comes up to him and before he can say anything Thranduil cuts him off. “Was it worth it?” Thranduil asks Gandalf, “What-” Gandalf starts. “They’ve been killed to save your dwarves.” Thranduil finishes talking and walks off before Gandalf can say anything else.

Thranduil and his army make it back to Mirkwood. He announces what happened and heads to his room. He closes the door and stands in front of his bed. He feels his eyes starting to tear up and he brings his hand up to his mouth. He starts crying and falls down to the ground. He tries to muffle his sobs with his hand as he lets it out. Before he notices he falls asleep on the ground against his bed frame.

He wakes up realizing what happened and starts tearing up again. He looks outside and realizes it's about time for a meeting. He still agrees to go to hopefully distract himself. He ignores the concerns of his noblemen to sit out a few of them. He starts getting colder towards his people and hardly leaves the castle anymore. For the first few weeks, he barely ate. Most feared they would lose him to grief but to their surprise he started eating again. Most speculated that he wasn’t sleeping well and they weren’t wrong, he’d either stay up late finishing his papers or pass out to sleep. 

After the first few months, he shut everyone out and remained cold. He didn’t know if it was caused because he didn’t want to feel the hurt anymore or was trying to act as the tough King he was supposed to be. Either way, this remained how he was for the rest of the months. He hardly talked in normal conversations anymore, he was either commanding or giving his input in meetings. Some started calling him “The Cold King” or saying he didn’t care about his people anymore.

He woke up realizing that it’s been 11 months since your death. They were gonna host a ceremony to remember you in the month. He couldn’t bear it, not having you by his side. “Meleth, please tell me this is one big joke on me,” he says quietly as he starts crying again. Before he starts sobbing he stands up and starts getting ready for the day. He makes his way to the throne room and as he enters he hears people gasping. He walks quickly and freezes as he looks at the person in the middle of the throne room. “Meleth?” He says quietly, you turn around and smile. “I’m home my love,” you say as you make your way towards him. “This has to be a dream” He mumbles. You touch his cheek as he leans into it, “It is real, I'm alive” You say. He hugs you quickly and doesn’t let go. You stay like that for a few minutes before he lets you go. You motion for you two to go to his chambers. As you both walk in as you close the door. “How are you alive?” He asks as you turn around to face him. “It’s a long story” You reply, “You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months.” He says. You wince a bit at what he says. “I have time,” He says.

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Eight

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7k

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Previous chapters can be found here. 

Perhaps the floor will open up. Perhaps it would just open up beneath me and swallow me whole. 

It didn't happen, of course. The stone floor remained solid beneath her feet and heat flooded Nina’s entire body as Dís turned a horrified stare at her. “Is this true?” She looked to her brother. “Thorin? Is this true?”

Thorin stepped up, the look he shot Elisin enough to melt the smug smile from her face. Nina’s heart pounded her ribs with such force, black dots danced before her eyes and her pulse throbbed through her temples. A sour, brackish taste flooded her mouth as her stomach threatened to betray her. 

“All anyone needs know about Miss Carren is that I am in no danger from her and I was never in any danger from her. Miss Elisin is mistaken and her fears are unfounded.”

“Thorin, why are you lying?” Elisin asked, shaking her head. “I clearly heard—”

“You were mistaken, Elisin. Terribly mistaken and it will stop now, is that understood?” Thorin closed the gap between her and him, arms crossed, expression one of fury. His eyes glinted with that same fury as he growled, “And I will not hear another word from you regarding Miss Carren. Especially when the filth that spills from your lips is a lie.”

“A lie—”

“I mean it, Elisin.” Thorin gripped her firmly by the upper arm. “Not another word.”

“Your Majesty, I—”

“Dwalin!” Thorin thundered.

Dwalin rose from his chair to join them. “Aye, Thorin?”

“See Miss Elisin out. Send an escort with her to Dale. And Elisin, you will not set foot in Erebor again. Do I make myself clear?”

Nina bit the inside of her cheek as Elisin stared up at Thorin, her eyes growing redder by the second. Her bottom lip trembled. “Thorin, you cannot mean—”

“I can and I do. As for the rest of you, you need not worry about Miss Carren. I can assure you, I am in no danger."  

“Thorin,” Dís came up to catch him by the upper arm, “we need to discuss this.”

“No, we need not.” He pulled free of her grasp. “Truly, we don’t.”

Nina almost took a step back as Dís’ frosty gaze alit on her. “Is this true, Nina?”

She looked from Dís to Thorin, to Elisin, whose own expression of triumph quickly melted away when Dwalin seized her by the arm and growled, “Ye heard him. Let’s go.”

“No, I’ll not leave just yet,” Elisin told him, trying to break his hold on her. “I want to hear this creature admit to the truth.”

“Nina, I’ve asked you a question and I do hope you will not think to lie to me.” 

Nina faced Dís, held her stare easily as she slowly nodded. “It is true, yes. I tracked Thorin to Rivendell with the thought of collecting the bounty that had been placed upon his head by Azog the Defiler and left in place by his successor, Tarog.”

At once, the Great Hall buzzed like a million angry bees, and for a moment, Nina was concerned that someone might actually attack her. But none of the dwarves were armed, so stares and words were the only weapons they could wield and they proved to be plenty as someone in the crowed shouted, “A murderer is among us! Not a one of us is safe!”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Thorin snapped, spinning about to face the angry mob gathering around them. “She’s killed not a single dwarf and has, in fact, come to my defense on more than one occasion, beginning with the night I met her. You are all fools to believe this harpy,” he jabbed a finger in Elisin’s direction, “when you see me standing before you alive and well and utterly unharmed. In fact, I would have likely been slain on the road between here and Dale, had it not been for Miss Carren, when I was ambushed by an orc pack.”

“So she just happened to be where an orc pack roamed?” 

“Especially when she was working with said orc pack!”

“She has no place here!”

“Throw her out!”

The voices rose, growing angrier with each word, and Nina’s eyes stung with tears as the dwarves grew more hateful in their condemnation of her and Elisin looked more and more triumphant with each shouted epithet. Even Thorin couldn't quiet the crowd and so instead drew his arm about her shoulders. “Come. Let’s—”

“No.” She pulled away from him, shaking her head as she blinked rapidly to hold back those tears. Her throat tightened, her vocal cords straining to push out the words her heart did not want her to speak. “They are right, Thorin. I am not fit to remain here and your people would never trust me if I tried.”

“Mesmel,” he reached for her, “I care not what they think. It doesn’t matter in the end.”

“Of course it matters. And perhaps you don’t care, but I do. I have no desire to have my every move watched as if I was prey, with one of your people just waiting to pounce should I put a foot wrong.” The words hurt so much to think, never mind say, but they had to be said as well. Turning toward the furious Dís and the other dwarves, she said, “Your king was never in any danger from me, and I had ample opportunity to harm him on more than one occasion. Yet, here he is. Alive and well before you.”

She looked over at Elisin, who smiled once more, and sighed softly. “You win, I suppose. You are a nasty, vain, and utterly stupid woman, but you win. You wanted me gone and now I am.”

Elisin’s smile grew more smug as she moved to slip her arm through Thorin’s. “Farewell, then. We wish you well and it’s time for you to go.”

Thorin jerked free of Elision’s grasp, a hint of amusement woven through his words as he said, “Are you mad, Elisin? Do you truly think that is how this ends? And for the rest of you, you take the word of a spiteful woman over that of your king? Especially knowing that I’ve traveled with Miss Carren in my company from Rivendell, through Mirkwood, to Erebor and no harm has come to me at her hands? And Dís, why do you think I need discuss something as serious as marriage with you? I understand you think it still your place to mother me, but know this, I need no mothering at all. You have overstepped and while I usually indulge it, this time, I’ll do no such thing.

“However, I understand the reservations, no matter how silly I think them to be, and because of that, know I fully intend to marry Miss Carren and if that means abdicating as your king, I will do just that.”

Everyone in the Great Hall gasped, Nina probably the loudest of them all, and she stared at him as the force of his words struck her fully. “Thorin, no,” she told him, shaking her head, “I cannot allow you to that.”

“You are not allowing or disallowing me to do anything,” he said, his voice gentle but somewhat firm. “This is my decision and I alone will make it. Fíli? Come here.”

Nina could barely breathe, her heart beat so hard and so fast and it only worsened when a young, handsome dwarf with long blond hair and very familiar blue eyes stepped forth. “Uncle, you cannot be serious about this,” he said, the runes at the ends of his braided golden mustache throwing off the light. 

“I can be and I am.” Thorin’s expression grew far more serious than Nina had ever seen before as he turned toward his nephew. “You’re ready, Fíli. You’ve been ready since we first reached Esgaroth, since before then, even. I’ve planned for you to take my place on the throne for some time now, long before I even took my leave of Ered Luin to go and speak with Dáin in the Iron Hills in regards to reclaiming Erebor. You’re ready.”

“How could I be?” Fíli shook his head. “I’ve done nothing to prove it. I’ve never led anyone or anything.”

“You’re ready, Fíli. I’ve seen it for a long time. Your mother has seen it. And I’ll wager right now, everyone in the room thinks you’re ready.”

“They think so because of how they see Miss Carren.”

“It doesn’t matter why. They think so.”

“Thorin,” Nina broke in softly, “you cannot step down. Your people have every right to be concerned. I don’t fault them and I know I would also be questioning as well.”

“They should trust me,” he replied, his deep voice reverberating even as the crowd around them buzzed amongst themselves. He turned toward the other dwarves. “You should trust me.”

“We do,” came a lone voice, “but we do not trust her.”

Nina flinched, although she could hardly fault any of them for feeling the way they did. She knew her own heart and that Thorin was certainly no longer in any danger from her. But, as far as his people were concerned, if they were wrong in trusting her, it could cost them their king. It was difficult to fault them for not wishing to take that chance.

With that in mind, she cleared her throat and turned toward the others. “You need not worry,” she told them, forcing her voice to remain even and calm despite her thundering heart and the pulse roaring through her temples to block out most sound. “I will not remain here and I will not return. Thorin,” her throat tightened and hot tears poked the backs of her eyes, “I will not marry you. Dís, I apologize for the upheaval I’ve caused. Now, if you will all excuse me, I’ll be on my way and you’ll need not worry about my troubling you again.”

With that, she pulled away from Thorin and made her way through the crowd without looking back. She blocked out everything around her, which was made infinitely easier by the tears blurring her vision, as she hurried toward Erebor’s entrance, ignoring Thorin’s shouts, or the jeers of his people. 

She’d fooled herself into thinking how she came to meet Thorin would never be discovered, that no one would ever find out. Even more foolishly, she’d thought that, perhaps if her secret was discovered, enough time would have passed that no one would look at her askance, that they’d know their king was in no danger from her.

“Stupid, really, to think that,” she said out loud as she crossed into the cool darkness of evening. “They are already suspicious of you, and this only confirmed those suspicions.”

“Nina!” Thorin’s voice rang out into the darkness and she paused, turning to see him striding her way. 

“Thorin, just go back. I know what you’re going to say and—”

“And you will listen to me say it,” he broke in sharply as he reached her. 

“I am not about to let you abdicate your throne.”

“Then it’s all well and good that I’ve not asked you for your permission.” He held her gaze easily, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes and expression of utter seriousness. “For I’m not asking you. I know full well what I’m doing and truth be told, it’s probably what I should have done from the beginning. Fíli is ready. He’s been ready.”

“He is not their king. You are, Thorin, and they need you. They depend upon you. You are their king.”

He just stared at her for a long moment and then, to her utter surprise, he let out a sharp snort of laughter. “As if I needed reminding of that? Nina, know this, the last thing I need anyone telling me is that I am the king. Believe me, I know. And I know what stepping aside means. I also know that I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself who I am to marry and where I am to marry and what marrying you would entail. And I have decided it.”

“Thorin,” she swallowed hard, fighting off a wince at the thunder of her pulse through her temples as her heart tripled its pace, “I know this as well. And I know you need no permission to do as you wish, but… I think you’d be making a mistake, stepping aside for me, of all people. Even if they knew nothing of how I found you, they would never fully trust me once they learned I’m from Esgaroth as well, that I was there when Smaug attacked. We both know this. I would always be thought as having an ulterior motive and I know dwarves are not fond of, nor do they trust, Men. And it’s difficult to fault them. Were I in their shoes, I would feel the same way.”

“I care not about that.”

“Well, I do.” She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself for her next words. “And I do not want to live always having people whispering about me behind my back, or staring at me when I dare show myself out of your chambers. And what if we should have children? Think you those other mothers would allow their children to be around any of ours?” She shook her head. “That is no kind of life for either me or a child. No kind of a life at all.”

For a moment, he looked as if she’d slapped him soundly across the face. “I—I hadn’t thought about it that way, Nina.”

“I know. And I don’t fault you. I think perhaps I’m too selfish in that respect. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I don’t want anyone to hate me or to second guess my every word or gesture. Being stared at and whispered about grows very old, very fast.”

“But, in time—”

“How much time, though? It may never happen, Thorin. If you fall ill, everyone will whisper I must have poisoned you. If you have an accident, they will immediately think I’ve had a hand in it. Your own sister looked at me with revulsion. They will never trust me. We both know this because we’d be foolish to think otherwise.” Her throat tightened, hot tears stinging the backs of her eyes as she swallowed hard and pressed her now-trembling lips together to still them. 

By the silvery light of the full moon above, Thorin’s eyes glinted and he seemed to be struggling with his own emotions as he cleared his throat and said, “I suppose I should let you go, then, shouldn’t I?”

She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him, to let him wrap her in his arms and shield her from everything his people might toss her way. Her heart had never hurt as it did at that moment. Not when Smaug struck. Not when she found Lenna on the northern shore of the Long Lake. Nothing hurt as much as this very moment did. She could almost actually feel her heart cracking, bits of it falling away, as the embers of her home’s torched roof fell away into the lake itself. 

But, it was not meant to be and so she slowly nodded. “I think you should, yes.”

He held her gaze for a long, thick, silent minute. Then, he bobbed his head slowly. “Very well. But know this, I do love you, mesmel.”

“I know. And I love you back,” she replied, her voice cracking softly. “But I—I need to go home now.”

“I’ll es—”

“No,” she shook her head, “you won’t. You need to go back to your people and assure them the murderess won’t be back.”

“Nina—”

“Goodbye, Thorin.”

She didn't wait for him to reply, but turned and resumed her stride. Part of her hoped he’d follow, that he’d refuse to give up the fight for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t. He might not agree with her, but he would respect her wishes.

Her walk back to Dale was a blur, and when she knocked on the door to the flat she’d shared with Sigrid, and Sigrid answered, Nina was powerless to do anything more than fall into her friend’s arms, sobbing like a child. 

[keerysfreckles]

saving you - peter parker

pairing: tom!peter x stark!reader

warnings: use of y/n, she/her, swearing, mentions of blood and fighting (scenes used from endgame)

a/n: i love peter parker sm i just HAD to write another blurb (also for my bexi boo mwah)

-

y/n never thought she'd fight a giant purple alien from space, let alone fighting him twice. five years ago she was on titan fighting the alien, then she blipped, alongside half of the world.

five years later she's on the same planet fighting the same purple asshole.

herself and others all came out of different sized portals created by doctor strange. y/n walked out with peter parker, her best friend. she looked around, seeing the army of avengers, ready to fight the battle.

her and peter, and everyone else, got in their positions as they heard steve, "avengers. assemble."

and with those two words, the team of most likely one hundred people ran towards thanos' army.

sam and valkyrie ended up in the sky at some point during the battle, while everyone else mostly stayed on the ground. scott turned huge again since the fight in germany, and immediately started stomping on the evil aliens.

the rest of the avengers started fighting the aliens that remained on the ground. bucky snd rocket shooting them together, with groot branching his arms through the aliens' bodies.

y/n and peter never left each others side as they ran towards the battle. the avengers' goal was to get tony's gaunlet away from thanos once it had all six infinity stones in it. all they had to do was get thanos' gaunlet, easy.

ten minutes pass and most of the avengers are injured while lying on the ground, the only few remaining are tony, steve, thor, peter, y/n, clint, valkyrie and pepper.

dealing with the team of eight they have, they create a plan to beat thanos.

"y/n, sweetheart i know you can fight and i know you can fight well," tony starts, placing his hands on his daughters shoulders, "but i need you to run away, i don't want you anywhere near here when we get the stones, capisce?"

a concerned look shows up on y/n's face, "what? dad, no, i'm not just leaving you guys here. let me he-"

y/n got cut off by tony hugging her, followed by pepper hugging her as well.

the family of three backed up from each other. tony looked back to the rest of the remaining avengers, giving y/n the signal to walk away.

yes, she was going to walk away from the problem, but as she saw her father, and peter start running towards thanos she knew she couldn't just watch.

taking out the ninja stars she has in her suit, she throws them at thanos' wrist to try and get his gaunlet off.

"what- y/n! i told you to run!" tony yells from inside his suit, while blasting thanos.

"i told you, i'm not just leaving you guys!" y/n yells.

tony backs away slightly, before finding clint with the red iron man gauntlet. tony takes it from him and passes it to peter. "peter run!" tony yells before going back to fight with thanos.

y/n watches as peter runs from thanos with her dad's gaunlet.

peter runs as fast as he can before he gets knocked down into a pile of rubble. a giant blue and yellow beam comes down in front of him.

"hi- hello," peter stutters to the blonde woman, "i'm peter parker."

"well peter parker," the woman starts, "you have something for me?"

peter nods as he hands her tony's gaunlet before she flies off.

peter stands up from the rubble, and watches in shock as y/n is on thanos' shoulders trying to fight him.

"y/n!" he yells as he watches thanos throw the poor girl at least 100 yards away. peter immediately runs after to look for her, "um- mr. stark, sir i'm going to try and find y/n."

"oh you better find my daughter alive parker," tony grumbles into the teams shared intercoms.

finally seeing the sight of y/n rolled over onto her side, holding her stomach, peter removes the nano-tech mask from his face.

he rolls y/n over to see the girl with dust and small marks of blood on her face. "hey, hey y/n you gotta wake up. your dad's gonna kill me if you don't," peter laughs, shaking the girl.

"cmon, please wake up."

tears brim peter's eyes, seeing the girl he's fallen in love with get hurt right in front of his eyes.

the only thought going through the boys mind was that he never got to tell her how he felt.

as he talked on his com, his voice was weak. "mr- mr stark i need help! she isn't waking up!"

tony's heart rate drops. disregarding the giant purple alien in front of him, he flies over to where he saw peter run off to. he flies down to the ground to be met with an unconscious y/n in peter's arms.

"friday, read y/n's vitals," tony instructs his ai.

"vitals steady. oxegyn decreased 20%. heartbeat decreased 10%."

"shit," tony mumbles. "you stay with her kid, i have to beat this asshole," he gestures back to thanos. "keep her alive!" tony yells as he flies back to the main fight going on.

peter looks down at y/n again, still with tears threatening to spill over. "y/n," his voice cracks, "please don't leave me."

the tears mentioned before finally spill, leaving peter's cheeks hot and lips trembling. he leans down and presses his lips to hers, while holding her jaw in his hand.

"please, please, please," peter kept mumbling against her lips, tears not decreasing in pace.

peter notices y/n start breathing heavier, he starts shaking her again. "hey, hey cmon, y.n wake up. i cant lose you, i just can't y/n."

peter sighs, "i love you."

y/n starts coughing slightly, before rolling over onto her hands and knees and coughing more than before.

peter immediately starts rubbing his hand up and down her back, "hey, thatta girl," he laughs slightly, glad she's okay, "cough it all up."

"oh my god," y/n gasps, before sitting on her knees on the ground.

"are you okay?" peter asks, keeping his hand on her lower back. y/n only nods, while peter places a kiss on the top of the girls head.

"i love you too," y/n whispers after leaning her head against peter's shoulder.

breaking away from each other, the two teenagers turn around to see a giant multicolored beam shoot up into the sky, yet the two didn't see thanos with the gaunlet at all.

y/n gasps lightly, before running to where the others were. peter followed after, "no, no, no," y/n keeps mumbling to herself as they got closer to the rest of the team.

peter got in front of y/n, incase anything was a threat to them. y/n couldn't see what was going on, but she saw the group surrounding someone lying on the floor.

she looked around, not seeing her father anywhere. a thousand thoughts flooded the girls' mind.

she heard peter talk to someone, but his words were muffled as her brain wouldn't let her think the worst possible solution happened.

pepper holds peter in her arms, comforing the boy, which left a small pathway for y/n to go through.

"dad," y/n whispers, jogging to her father who was leaning against a piece of a broken ship. "dad hey, cmon, get up. we have to go back home."

y/n grabs his hand as she starts crying, she couldn't hold her tears back any longer.

tony looks up at his daughter weakly before placing his other hand on the side of her face, "tell parker he better take good care of you," tony says weakly, making y/n nod and smile softly.

tony leans up with the rest of the energy he has left and kisses y/n's cheek. y/n and the rest of the group watch as tony leans back against the broken ship, and see his arc reactor light dim.

"no, no, no, no," y/n keeps mumbling tapping on the arc reactor.

her heart drops when the light fully turns off. everything around her goes quiet as she leans her forehead on her fathers chest.

this was it. she'd never see him again. never talk to him again. never tell him how her first day of senior year was. never tell him how amazing her first date with peter went. nothing.

pepper lets go of peter to go bid tony a final goodbye. peter helps y/n up off of her father and immediately holds her head to his own chest.

he tries his best to calm her down by cooing to her.

"shhh."

"it'll all be okay."

"you're so strong, you're going to get through this."

"i'll always be here for you."

"i'll always protect you y/n."

y/n lifts her head to look peter in the eyes. "you better not leave me parker," y/n kisses his cheek.

"never in a million years," the boy replies, holding the girl close to him, kissing the top of her head again.

[monasteryicons]

Father Emil Kapaun: The Saint in the Foxhole

Born of Czech immigrants in the small farming town of Pilsen, Kansas, in 1916, Emil Joseph Kapaun was ordained a priest in 1940 and served as an Army chaplain in Burma in World War II. During the Korean War, Captain Emil Kapaun was the Catholic chaplain assigned to the 3rd Battalion of the 8th Cavalry. On All Souls Day, November 2, 1950, this battalion of 3,000 soldiers was unexpectedly attacked by a force of more than 20,000 Chinese troops. The Americans, taken by surprise and fighting valiantly, never had a chance.

Father Kapaun ran from foxhole to foxhole, dragging out the wounded and giving last rites to the dying. Over the sound of gunfire and explosions he heard confessions. Feverishly working beyond the American lines in no-man’s-land, he actually stopped an execution and negotiated with the enemy for the safety of wounded Americans. No one knows how many young soldiers he carried to safety on his back. Going back again and again, he was finally taken prisoner as he tried to rescue another wounded soldier.

By daybreak the battle was over and hundreds of newly captured American POWs, including Father Kapaun, began a brutal forced 87-mile death march to a POW camp. Those wounded and unable to continue were shot dead. Father Kapaun picked up a wounded POW and began carrying him on his back, imploring others who were still in fair condition to do the same. Some followed his example and many managed to make it alive to the prison camp. Against the orders of his Chinese guards, Father Kapaun cared for the sick and wounded, built fires for warmth and cooking, searched for scraps of food, and even set up a makeshift system to purify drinking water.

To the great anger of his guards, Father Kapaun managed to gather the men together, officers and enlisted men, black men and white men, even atheists, agnostics and others, to join together in saying the Rosary.

Father Kapaun became an inspiration to the other POWs. The priest would preach openly to the men even though his captors ordered him not to do so. He would pray one-on-one with POWs, and some even embraced the faith and were baptized. Praying was banned, and when Father Kapaun ignored it and prayed with his men, his captors would strip him naked and make him stand on a block of ice for hours on end.

On Easter Sunday 1951, the bedraggled starving prisoners saw a silhouetted figure standing alone, illuminated by the morning sun. As the men approached, they realized it was Father Kapaun, wearing his priest’s stole and holding a missal. Somehow he had received permission to hold an Easter service. He could not celebrate Mass, but he read some Psalms and everyone recited out loud the prayers from Good Friday, including the Stations of the Cross. Survivors say that some men openly wept.

Worn down from the horrendous conditions and suffering from his own wounds and poor treatment, Father Kapaun died on May 23, 1951. He was credited with saving hundreds of lives through the loving care, compassion and spirituality he demonstrated to all his men.

In 1993, Captain Chaplain Emil Joseph Kapaun was declared a Servant of God by Pope John Paul II. The canonization process of this selfless priest is underway and there are two miracles under investigation at the present time. In 2013, he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor by President Barack Obama, becoming one of only five chaplains to receive our nation’s highest award.